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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790218">we don't have to dance (to the beat of their songs)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poteto/pseuds/Poteto'>Poteto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle for the Cowl, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon is not valid I am, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Pre-New 52, Swearing, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, and I want them to be friends goddamnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:47:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790218</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poteto/pseuds/Poteto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake &amp; Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>730</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. how don't you drown in a rainstorm?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>whew. So I decided to try my hand at something longer. So far, I have 3 chapters written and more 4 outlined. Some of the dialogue in this short chapter is lifted straight from Battle for the Cowl, but, of course, I changed things up to make it mAKE SENSE BECAUSE DC CAN'T WRITE.<br/>Anyway. Thank you to my friend Cess for beta reading this. I'm sure the readers are glad I'm putting something with proper editting out there for a change.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jason is already having one hell of a bad night when he notices someone broke into his hideout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes sure he isn’t noticed at the cave entrance even if he can hear two voices clear as day. He recognizes them, but that doesn’t mean his stomach doesn’t do a full somersault when he sees the Bat uniform. For a terrifying moment, he thinks the whole death thing was all a ruse and Bruce is back from a grave he’s never really been in. How fucked up is it that it makes perfect sense? That it’s not out of character for Bruce to just pretend that he’s dead for the sake of whatever ridiculous plan he’s following at the moment?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason takes a step back and closes his eyes, inhaling slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I owe you one, Catwoman,” says the man in the Bat costume somewhere down in the cave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s right. That isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice. Jason forces himself to glance down again and he finally takes note of the things he should have noticed in the first place: the person in the Bat costume is shorter than Bruce, more slender and even his stance is less rigid. Less like a stoic soldier and more like a trained gymnast. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> gymnast, though. That one must be tending to Damian’s ouchie back at the manor. As he listens to him exchange a few quips with Selina, Jason knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s Tim Drake.</span>
</p><p><span>His last meeting with Tim was far more pleasant than any interaction he had with the other bats, and that’s saying something considering he was in custody at the time. Still, Jason must do what he has to do. He doesn’t </span><em><span>want</span></em> <em><span>to</span></em><span>, but he doesn’t think he has many options. He didn’t expect to face Tim so soon, but maybe it’s better this way. After his confrontation with Dick and what he did to Damian, he might as well burn all the bridges. Like ripping off a band-aid.</span></p><p>
  <span>Jason’s replacement is good, but he still has a lot to learn. He doesn’t hear it when Jason dashes towards Selina and knocks her out. He can only react by jumping out of Jason’s reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there goes diplomacy,” Tim grunts. “What do you think you’re doing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jason</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he knows. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look stupid in that get up,” Jason tells him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pot, meet kettle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s when he attacks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those few stupid words they exchanged make big difference and Jason hates it. He hates how confident Tim is that Jason won’t shoot him</span>
  <span> —</span>
  <span> confident to the point that he’ll exchange pleasantries with Jason instead of attacking outright, before Jason even has the chance to take a shot at him. If this were anyone else, Jason would call it a stupid mistake and end the fight, but he’s learned enough about his replacement. Tim doesn’t do stupid, not in battle. Everything he does once he’s fighting is calculated and Jason hated him for it for too long. He knows Tim was the Robin that Jason could never be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that he’s ready for it doesn’t mean he manages to dodge the kick Tim aims at his chin. The kid is simply faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim tries to kick his jaw again. Jason grabs him by the ankle. Expecting that, Tim tries to flip backwards. He isn’t heavy enough. Jason throws him at the wall as if he’s nothing but a ragdoll. Robin reflexes kick in and Tim rolls on the floor, using the cape to avoid bigger damage. He grunts as he gets back to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to end your little masquerade tonight, Jason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but I’m only getting started, Boy Wonder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a loud thud. Jason’s knuckles connect with his jaw hard enough to bruise, and a lesser man would have been knocked out. Tim flips away almost gracefully, as if they’re dancing. Jason expects him to back off. Tim lands and runs into his space. Jason crosses his arms, bracing for a punch. Tim ducks down on the last second and hooks his leg behind Jason’s knees. He doesn’t fall, but he loses his balance. Tim lands the next punch. Jason hears something crack and he isn’t sure if it’s his armor or himself. He backflips away from the kid, because he better gather himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t hurt yourself now,” Tim taunts, even if he’s breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason rolls his eyes and grabs a handful of dirt from the ground. He almost takes pleasure in Tim’s indignant sputter when he gets dust tossed at his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he opens his eyes, Jason is no longer in his field of vision, concealed by one of the many deceiving nooks along the cave walls. That’s the problem with them. They always forget Jason can be just as annoyingly stealthy as they can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Jason! Come out and play! So I can tear that cowl off your gigantic stupid head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounds annoyed. Jason smirks, despite himself. He presses a button on the side of his cowl and speaks into the comm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see that ruthless side of yours very often, Tim. I like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t move towards the sound of his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This place is rigged with speakers to throw me off, huh? I’ll still find you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid can stand his ground, Jason will give him that. He has brains and skills that make him a terrifying enemy. Too bad Bruce brainwashed him into being a freaking hypocrite. Too bad he’s still trying to figure out where Jason’s hiding, unaware that his enemy is right behind him. Jason gets a batarang from his belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason remembers a young face, his only visitor in prison. A boy that gave him what he needed to escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of throwing the blade, he surges forward and grabs Tim’s arm. The kid gasps, but can’t react before Jason twists his arm into a lock and presses the batarang to his throat. The guard around his neck is resistant, sure, but still malleable enough to allow head movement and it’s certainly not strong enough to stop the sharp edge. Tim knows that. He stays very quiet and Jason can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he comes up with a plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have one chance to save yourself,” Jason says. He feels the stillness beneath his hands gain a new tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you’re going to fight me without any dirty tricks?” he hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Tim. You know damn well there’s no such thing when your survival is on the line. I know you do. You’re better than this. Join me. Be my Robin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently forgetting there is a sharp object pressed to his throat, Tim tries to look back at Jason. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Join</span>
  </em>
  <span> you? A psychopathic killer? Sure, why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason twists his arm a little further, his grip tightening. He doesn’t like to hear him spewing the same meaningless bullshit Bruce preached. He forces himself to remember what he’s doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, Tim. You know you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> can do better. Why else would you help me break out of prison?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right,” he grunts. “I let you escape. Now the lives you took after that are </span>
  <em>
    <span>on me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws his head back hard enough to knock off Jason’s mouth guard and almost makes him bite his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems like Tim regained his will to fight. He moves fast and hits hard, barely giving Jason enough time to react. Their battle turns vicious, both charging into fast attacks and refusing to defend. Jason’s mouth is dry and it tastes like bitter copper for more than one reason, the clatter of kevlar cracking under fists and heavy boots makes for a nauseating cacophony. It was a mistake to think one of them  — any of them  — could see things his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Burn those bridges down. If there is no way back, it hurts less that he can’t go home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They clash in the middle in a battle of strengths. Tim’s first real mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shot Damian,” Jason spits. “He got between Dick and I so I shot him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A step back. “No, you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care? I heard the brat wants you dead. I got rid of him for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m more worried about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanting me dead </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Jason doesn’t. He did shoot Damian and the kid was reckless enough that Jason could easily have made it lethal, but he aimed for the shoulder instead. It would’ve been better, it would’ve made his mission easier. If he truly could stoop low enough to be a villain like Bruce treated him, all of this would be so much less painful. He couldn’t. Still can’t. Bruce was right, after all. He’s nothing but a failure.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Burn it down. It’s too late to turn back now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He roars wordlessly and springs forward. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There he is in front of him, the man that did everything right when Jason did wrong. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crack</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It literally doesn’t matter, though. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thud. Crack.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  And all  — </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>  — because  — </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>  — he’s held back  — </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>  —  by a risible moral code  — </span>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Why are they too stubborn to see their way does not work?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim finally falls, drawing an arc that is almost graceful when his feet leave the ground and his limp body hits the stony floor with a bleak noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he’s not moving, Jason can tell he’s grown enough that the suit fits him, but it’s still a little loose around the waist and the shoulders. He’s shorter than Bruce used to be, so Jason bets he had to roll up the pants before putting on the boots. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>End this. They think you’re a villain. Show them what a villain is like. It’s only fair since they keep protecting the real bad guys.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason crouches down by his side. Despite everything they might think, he doesn’t enjoy violence. He does what must be done, what he needs to survive and to serve justice, but he doesn’t enjoy it. That’s why he prefers guns. Guns get the job done from afar and you don’t have to dwell on it. You can make those that deserve it feel pain, but it’s better than the alternative.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He came here wearing that suit to fuck with you. He’s smart enough to know how it affects you. He’ll stand in the way and grow more dangerous.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason can’t see behind the cowl, but he remembers Tim’s eyes are really blue. Not grey-blue like Bruce’s, but a bright blue like the sky in spring. The last time he saw those eyes they had a determined spark behind them. The eyes of someone that was taking a risk for something they truly believed. Dick had said before that Jason had been Tim’s Robin. That Tim used to admire him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Burn it down. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jason raises the old batarang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whack</span>
  </em>
  <span> so sudden and brutal that for a second Jason doesn’t know where it came from. Only when he falls painfully on his shoulder does he realize that someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>hit his head</span>
  </em>
  <span> with a freaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>rock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Not someone. Little Timmy, innocent and not that unconscious, managed to grab a heavy rock and knock Jason with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No dirty tricks when your survival is on the line,” the kid says, his voice wobbly. His mouth is probably full of blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason laughs. That’s right. Tim is not a kid. None of them are, never had been. They’re soldiers first and foremost fighting a war that they can’t win, only death waiting at the end. How does that Fitzgerald quote go? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Except real life doesn’t need heroes, it needs realistic solutions.  Jason stands. Tim’s knees buckle under his weight and he coughs out something that looks like a tooth. Or at least a piece of one. The latest Boy Wonder falls on his face, his body finally giving in after the extraneous scuffle. That’s a hero's destiny, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason stares at him, but doesn’t try to check his pulse or verify if he’s really out. Tim is not the biggest problem he has to solve </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>  — and yes, he sees the irony in making that decision, but he pretends he doesn't because he’s beaten in more than one way. Besides, there is still one person to confront. He should be coming soon when he notices he’s missing a sidekick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully removes the cowl from Tim and the kid doesn’t spring into action again. As Jason walks away from him, he decides he’ll offer Dick the same truce he offered Tim. Unlike with the younger boy, there is not a single part of him that thinks Dick might take him up on that. He just wants to make sure to cover all the bases. Tonight, Tim’s childhood hero let him down one more time. It’s only fitting that later Jason’s hero is the one that will reject him for the last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heroes always die either way. He’s been there, done that. It isn’t fun. Jason doesn’t want to be a hero. Not anymore.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. you’re never gonna get it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And here's how Tim dealt with the aftermath of that clusterfuck :D Some of the dialogue was lifted from Red Robin #1. Again, thank you Cess for beta reading this story for me. You're the real MVP.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Tim wakes up, he thinks he’s hallucinating. Partly because his almost everything hurts, and whatever else left feels tender and sore. Mostly because he thinks Robin is rescuing him. That can’t be right, though. Dick Grayson hasn’t been Robin  — or that small  — for many years. Jason Todd certainly hasn’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim groans. Jason. He was supposed to solve things. He was supposed to fix things up after Jason was gone. Deal with the damage when Jason got back. Give Jason another chance because he knew Robin  — </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robin  — couldn’t be that bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you deadweight,” Robin mumbles. “How pathetic can you get? You don’t have any mortal wounds. What are you doing, napping on the dirty ground like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that certainly is not Dick Grayson. First because Dick could never sound that obnoxious. And the small detail that Tim knows Dick is an adult man now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damian…?” he mutters numbly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got ya, mate,” another familiar voice, this one lot friendlier. Squire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is out again in a matter of seconds, utterly confused about the fact that Squire is there and Damian is dressed as Robin. All he knows is that he failed utterly and completely. He was supposed to fix things, and somehow he made everything worse. Everything that went downhill started with Tim Stupid Drake letting his useless ass get into a mess he was never prepared for. Jack used to tell him to be proud of himself in the same breath he told him his arrogance was unbecoming. Children are supposed to be seen, not heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets unconsciousness take him. His last thought is that he hopes he doesn’t wake up, so that he doesn’t have to deal with all the consequences of his mistakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Tim wakes up, because Tim can never get what he wants. At first, he doesn’t remember where he is and why everything hurts so much. Did he oversleep? That would make sense. He found out that, if he went for too long without sleep, by the time he eventually crashed his body would stay unconscious for way too long, and he would wake up all stiff and sore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a bit of effort, he starts opening his eyes. The first thing he notices is that he’s at the cave. It wouldn’t be the first time he passed out there, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, that’s right. He fought Jason again. He got his ass handed back to him again. He barely remembered what happened; all he knew is that he took a huge risk and it didn’t pay off. Dick must have saved him after all  — leaving that note letting him know Tim was going to do something stupid was, in retrospect, actually smart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks slowly and turns to the side when he hears familiar voices. If Dick is coming to check on him, Tim must make sure to apologize for his recklessness and thank him profusely. He knew there was a huge chance of him being a hindrance rather than useful, but he took the chance anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of Dick, however, it’s Batman who walks into his field of vision. Tim freezes. So he finally accepted it. Dick decided to take the cowl after all. Tim almost smiles in relief  — the fact that his jaw is throbbing certainly keeps his expression in check  — because that’s a good thing, right? If his mess of a plan resulted in Dick finally stepping up to the task, then it had been worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Part of him feels a little guilty. Dick repeatedly said that he didn't want to be Batman but... This is fine, right? Dick is the only one who can. The only one good enough. This will be good for him, too… right?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t look like Dick noticed Tim is awake. He walks to the batmobile with practiced fortitude and, for a moment, he looks so much like Bruce that Tim feels a lump in his throat. The fanboy in him also laments that he’s about to miss Dick’s first patrol as Batman  — it has to be the first, there’s no way a simple beatdown got Tim asleep for longer than a night  — and he considers calling out and asking to tag along anyway, as unlikely as it is that he’ll get an yes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then a smaller person stalks into view, and the lump in Tim’s throat positively doubles in size: it’s Robin. Robin, wearing a smaller version of Tim’s uniform. Younger, newer, stronger, better. The arrogance in his posture is familiar, and even if it wasn’t there are very few suspects. Damian Wayne is wearing the Robin uniform. Damian Wayne is getting in the batmobile with Dick Grayson. A new Batman, a new Robin. Tim struggles to sit up, but neither hero notices him. They take off, the sound of the engine revving up drowning Tim’s pathetic attempt at speaking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Timothy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strong hands grab him by the shoulders, hauling him up before Tim even realizes he was falling from the cot. He lets Alfred delicately adjust him back into a semi-comfortable position for half  a second before he springs back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What</span>
  <span> —</span>
  <span>” he croaks, his voice horribly hoarse from lack of use. “Al…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boy, breathe,” Alfred commands, again holding him still. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except nothing is alright. Tim resists and, hurt as he is, he could’ve easily got himself free. Not without hurting Alfred, though, and Tim doesn’t think he could do that even if his life depended on it. Instead, he squirms uselessly until Alfred finally manages to push him back into his pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Timothy, don’t make me tie you to the bed. You know I’m not above it if you’re being unreasonable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Batman and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Robin</span>
  </em>
  <span> left,” Tim protests, his voice betraying his confusion. It almost sounds as though he’s in fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something flashes across Alfred’s face  — worry?  — but it vanishes fast enough, giving place to the expression a father wears while gently, but firmly chastising his child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you let me check your vitals, I’ll gladly inform you of what happened while you were unconscious. Do we have a deal? Will you stay put if I let you go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim slowly nods. Alfred takes a step back. The boy sits up, but he does so carefully. A sign that he’s tired of lying down rather than a rebellion. Alfred accepts that with a satisfied smile before turning to the medical supplies that had been carefully placed by Tim’s cot. Vitals check  is a process they’ve done enough times that neither needs to pay full attention to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Tim requests. Demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been resting for almost 17 hours. You don’t have any serious wounds, so I reckon your prolonged rest was caused by sheer exhaustion rather than actual injuries.” Alfred gives him a pointed look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim ignores it. “What happened to Jason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those words have an effect on the butler, whose shoulders go stiff even if he does his best to hide his discomfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Master Dick can tell you in better detail when he returns. The short version is… we don’t know where he is.” At this point, he pauses, as though measuring his words carefully, or as though he doesn’t want to admit what he has to tell Tim next. Tim doesn’t pressure him.“He fought Master Dick and lost. We believe he thought you were gone. Master Damian was able to rescue you, thankfully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t think Jason was stupid enough to think he was dead. Especially because Tim wasn’t even trying to pretend to be dead. He could’ve. Bruce had taught him how. It didn’t even occur to him to do so, because, despite everything, it was Jason. Jason was a Robin. He was angry, sure, and Tim didn’t fully blame him. Not after he heard Bruce’s testament.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, for once, Jason isn’t Tim’s main concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damian didn’t rescue me,” he says. “Robin did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred pretends the task of making sure Tim doesn’t have a concussion is a lot more demanding than it really is. He’s clearly avoiding the accusation in Tim’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like you’re all good, my boy. Your head is more resistant than it seems, it looks like. I should warn you that one of your teeth has been broken, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alfred…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The butler sighs. “It’s not my place to tell you about Master Dick’s decisions, Master Timothy,” he says and Tim’s stomach sinks. “I’m sure he’ll talk to you once he returns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except it is Alfred’s place. It is exactly his place, his right. Tim never quite understood why Alfred chooses to stand on the sidelines. Alfred knows damn well he isn’t simply an employee, he’s family. His snide remarks and gentle chastising are one thing, but, when push comes to shove, Alfred tends to only offer advice when asked for. He lets them sort themselves out. If he wanted, he could do more, get the others to do more, or at least Tim is almost sure of it. Could it be that he got tired of being ignored by Bruce by the time the kids joined the crusade? Does it have anything to do with Jason’s death, like most of the problems in the family seem to revolve around? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At another time, Tim would’ve asked. As it is now, there is something gnawing at Tim’s gut, a feeling of inadequacy he hadn’t felt in quite a few years. When was the last time? When he was just starting as Robin? When Jason first tried to kill him? It was a swarm of butterflies in his stomach, and not the good kind, that started bugging him when Damian appeared but it didn’t bloom into an all out ache until tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim felt the urge to go home as though he was overstaying his welcome in a stranger’s house, but his ride was late and there was nothing he could do about it. As though he was a meddling boy forcing himself into the life of a grieving man against his will. As though he had to work twice as hard, be three times as useful to make up for the fact that he was an unwanted appendix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything else until Alfred clears him. He takes the pain medicine the butler gives him, even though he didn’t need them. He can barely feel the soreness of his body by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next hours are a blur. Tim knows he takes off the rest of the uniform. He has half a mind to cringe at how painful it must have been to Alfred to treat him while he’s wearing Batman’s colors. He changes into his own clothes before going upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His room at Wayne manor doesn’t look like anything like his former room. His space used to be sacred, papers scared around among piles of dirty clothing and old comics. Some of the contents were incriminating, notes of cases Tim had no business meddling in, but it didn’t matter because uncaring maids wouldn’t bother reading and neither would his parents. The only things Tim bothered hiding were the pictures he took of Batman and Robin, because those were not his secrets to be reckless with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around at the room he’s occupying, there’s no mess on the floor. No dirty laundry in sight. His photography gear is neatly put away on a shelf  — when was the last time he took pictures just for fun?  — and his school books are lined up for easy access. Even the pile of papers on the desk were organized in a chaotic way.  It looks less like a room where you live in and more like a guest room. Like when you’re staying over at a friend’s house and you’re overzealous of your belongings to make sure your presence is not a hassle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks of his room back at Titans Tower. He had no secrets there, no worries about hiding documents or anything of the sort. Even when his teammates didn’t know his real name, they knew him. He was Robin and that was enough. Being Robin was enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Except Young Justice is no more and Tim doesn’t think they can get back together. Not with Kon and Bart gone.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim wonders if that means he always knew he wasn’t meant to stay. Then he shakes his head. This is his family. It isn’t that different from when he lived with his father, after all, the only difference is that then there were less people minding his secrets, so he didn’t have to be as careful. He is Tim Wayne now. This is all he has.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does have it, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick said they’d be okay. Dick was the first person to fully accept him. Maybe it had started out of misplaced love, a way to compensate that he hadn’t been there for Jason, but Tim accepted what he could get and Dick had been his brother since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim stays in his room for too long, but it feels like no time has passed when he hears the telltale noise of the grandfather clock moving downstairs. Someone is leaving the cave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy hesitates, thinking himself selfish for a moment. A voice in his mind that sounds painfully like Kon’s tells him to stop being stupid. Tim reminds himself that this is his home, this is his family… This is his life</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s not perfect, but you only work with what you get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not surprising to him that Dick’s at the computer when he gets into the cave. Bruce drilled into their heads that you always write a report as soon as you’re able. Unless you’re injured, reporting after patrol takes priority over everything. Even Tim and Barbara, known for their photographic memory, weren’t exempt of that rule.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not surprising.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> is Tim so angry? Dick doesn’t owe him anything. Surely Alfred told him Tim was fine. Checking on him was unnecessary and.. and it was what Dick would’ve done a couple of months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Tim calls and it sounds harsher than he meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick startles before turning around. It’s somehow unsettling to see the man in the Bat cowl show such a human emotion and that somehow makes Tim angrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim,” Dick starts, the shadow of a smile on his lips. “Alfred said…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gave my old uniform to Damian,” Tim cuts him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is not what he planned. He was supposed to ask Dick for an explanation calmly. There’s now another voice in his mind  — should he be worried about those?  — and this one sounds like Janet Drake’s telling him that it’s unbecoming to bark like that. He should keep his emotions in check. And yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said we’d be okay,” he grits out. “My entire life has burnt down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I don’t call this okay, Dick.</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And this is Dick’s problem, how? Tim wonders. His mind’s Kon tells him that Dick is his brother. His mind’s Jack Drake tells him real men don’t whine like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick sighs. “He’s my responsibility now. You’re not my protege, Tim, you’re my equal. My closest ally. You’ll be okay. But him? You know better than anyone that left on his own, he’s going to kill again. You have to understand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Tim cuts him off again, unusually impatient. This isn’t selfish, right? This is his. He knows it, because other than the mission... “This is all I have now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” another voice joins them, “you’re still here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve got to be kidding. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim turns around and sees red. There’s the demon child in Tim’s colors spewing crap about upgrading security to keep out outsiders. Tim knows he says something, but he doesn’t remember what (he hopes he didn’t reveal anything he didn’t want Dick to know) and he tries to leave. (He can’t bear to see that.) Damian keeps running his mouth. (Tim already knows he doesn’t belong, maybe a part of him always knew). Dick doesn’t intervene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not until Tim is trying to knock a tooth out of the brat’s gargantuan mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The message is clear: Tim served his purpose. He isn’t a priority anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he storms off, there are no more meddling voices in his mind but his own. He can tell Dick is calling his name and he remembers a time in which he thought he was temporary. At first he had asked Dick to come back, only taking the mantle of Robin when Dick told him to. Tim accepted it, deciding he would be Robin for as long as Batman needed him and retire as soon as someone more fit of the mantle arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This has always been the plan. It’s no one’s fault but Tim’s that he had forgotten it. That he allowed a temporary arrangement to take over his life - to the point where, not that the time is up, he’s left on his own. That the rightful owner took back a mantle Tim had borrowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim used to be alone all the time. This isn’t uncharted territory.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter there's no more direct quotes from the source material! My canon now! Comments are appreciate and keep me writing, so if you have anything to say... go ahead!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. we’re bound to get exhausted so far from the shore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a job interview</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When the cast comes off his leg, Jason sighs in relief. Casts are a bitch and he can’t believe he survived four weeks walking around like a zombie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, well, he technically </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a zombie, but still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurse barely has time to set aside the now useless pieces of cast before Jason eagerly stretches his arm. He tries not to take offense in the patronizing smile the man gives him. Jason supposes he isn’t the person acting like having their arm in a cast is hell  — because it is — but he can go without the little smirk, thank you very much. He would’ve removed the damn thing on his own, except it’s his dominant arm stuck in the cursed thing and he didn’t want to risk any new injuries. It’s the first time in over a month that he has no major wounds. And that’s considering that the pit gave him a faster healing rate than your average Joe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a crack here,” the nurse comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. I had to fight a criminal. They were annoying, so I hit them with my cast,” Jason says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurse gives him a forced chuckle as though he thinks Jason is joking. Or, well, that Todd Peters is joking. He doesn’t need to know Jason’s real name or that he’s completely serious. He must be new. They’re not in Gotham, but they’re close enough that having to beat a random crook with a cast shouldn’t be that outlandish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The annoying noise of the saw fills the room again and Jason does his best to stay put. While telling Dick to fuck off after their fight had been satisfying  — a silver lining after having his ass handed back to him, if you must  — letting himself fall to what could’ve been his second death wasn’t Jason’s smartest move. And definitely not worth having to drag his own broken ass home, ruin his wounded body even more as he struggled to change into civies. Never mind having to face the humiliation of seeking a public hospital and pretending he had somehow walked away from getting hit by a bus. That had been fun, but he would not recommend it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go,” the nurse says. “You’re free as a bird, Mr. Peters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason flexes his fingers in relief. As a bird. What a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he walks out of the hospital with a medical bill that will most certainly never get paid  — although it’s tempting to send it to Wayne Enterprises just to let them know Jason is alive and now ready to kick their asses again  — he remembers the second time someone told him he could be Robin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been Tim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t thought about that night in quite a while, mostly because he couldn’t believe it really happened. It was before they freaking sent Jason to Arkham, but after Jason got rid of (most of) the green mist in his mind that had him foaming at the mouth with unchecked anger. Robin swooped in right in the middle of one of Jason’s busts and somehow managed to knock out as many criminals as he protected from lethal shots. After they were done, he had approached Jason and deadass asked him if he would consider being Robin again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like that. Jason thought he was joking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Tim Drake, in all his 14 year-old glory, his voice still cracking a bit, deadpanned: “I only took over because someone had to. But now that you’re back, it only makes sense that you return to your family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason was so stunned he doesn’t remember what he said next. Probably something about shooting the kid if he caught him in his territory again. He’s pretty sure the little shit rolled his eyes at him before jumping off the roof. Jason had the distinct feeling that Bruce never heard about that small mishap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For quite a while, Jason tried his hardest not to think about what he left in Gotham. It was hard when he was too injured to move, but books helped him through it, as always. Now, however, he was free as a robin and he has a decision to make: what is he going to do next?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trip to the shitty motel he’s staying at takes no time at all, his feet taking him there while his mind was elsewhere. He’s thinking so hard of Gotham that at first he thinks he’s losing his marbles when he sees a familiar face. Jason freezes on his tracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim Drake is casually leaning against Jason’s door. He tilts his head to the side and cocks an eyebrow in challenge, as though letting him know that he is very much real and not an hallucination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the fuck —” Jason starts. Then he decides against it. “You know what? I don’t want to know. Forget you found me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim rolls his eyes. “I happen to have a really good memory, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sure doesn’t look like it, considering it seems you forgot I tried to kill you last time we saw each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean when you could’ve killed me, but you didn’t?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes all of Jason’s flimsy self-control not to punch him, but Tim stands there, his arms still crossed, his eyebrows vanishing under his too-long bangs. It’s almost as if he’s daring Jason to hit him, to lose his cool. Doing so would be letting him win and Jason isn’t about to do that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has half a mind to appreciate the fact that Tim had been waiting for him in the hallway, though. Even Dick hadn’t been that considerate in the past, always favoring the good old breaking into people’s homes like Bats taught them. It annoys him to no end that the kid somehow always knows what little things will mulify Jason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanna talk,” Tim says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t been active lately”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t even flinch. “That’s a lie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did Dick find me?” Jason groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t. I did,” still in that annoying flat voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you want me to believe he didn’t follow you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so, since I haven’t seen him in a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> catches Jason’s attention. He considers the boy in front of him. Rumor has it that Tim Drake manages to be even more elusive than the rest of them, and Jason believes that.  He believes that a child that stalked Batman and Robin for so long is nothing short of impressive. He heard Tim was the only person able to lie to Batman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something makes him think Tim isn’t lying now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, he fishes the keys from his pocket and opens the door. Pretends not to see the kid’s annoyingly cocky smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t know much about Tim other than his M.O. as Robin and parts of how he joined the Bat cult. He knows he was already a rich kid before becoming Robin, but if the kid has any reaction to Jason’s crappy hotel room, he doesn’t show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason drops on the couch with a groan. Tim stands around with a blank expression and, if Jason didn’t know any better, he’d think the kid is nervous. He gestures at the empty mismatched armchair by his side, and only then does the kid take a seat. Silence stretches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? You said you wanted to talk. Talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost impossible to notice, but Tim takes a slow breath before starting: “When we fought… you asked me to be your Robin,” he says. “Did you mean it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “What kind of question is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you seriously consider taking me as a sidekick?” Tim insists. “It’s a yes or no question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason sits back and crosses his arms, keeping his expression schooled into something neutral. He hadn’t thought about that night  — at least not on purpose  — since then. However, in the fleeting moments his mind forced him to relive it, he couldn’t help but think about his spur of the moment offer. Because that’s what it had been. An impulsive thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant it,” he says, his voice neutral. “In our field, it’s a pain to work alone. I know you have skills, so having you work for me would’ve been useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s the truth, or at least most of it. Tim presses his lips into a tight line and nods slowly, as though he’s readying himself for something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you still think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of game are you playing, Replacement?” Jason snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not playing anything. I’m here to offer you my services, sort of.” Tim gives him a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We can go over my resume, if you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s chin drops. He can’t help it. His stunned silence lasts long enough that Tim’s fake smirk slips from his face and, despite his best efforts to keep the cool facade, Jason can see he’s distraught somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said that that would mean working for a psychopathic killer,” Jason reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember distinctly saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure, why not?</span>
  </em>
  <span> to your offer, too. Also you called me worse things, you don’t get to be sensitive about name calling now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Jason presses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could ask you the same thing,” Tim deflects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason sighs. “You suck at job interviews.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be fair, I’m a trust fund baby. I’m not supposed to go through job interviews.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason sighs. He doesn’t know what to think. On one hand, he is a detective. He was trained to recognize lying, to know when he’s being played with. On another, the boy in front of him isn’t your everyday crime alley crook, but an equal. Maybe superior, in some circumstances. He could have a plan inside a plan to completely fuck Jason over  — and he kind of should, considering Jason almost killed him a couple of times… and Damian… and Dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does Bat 2.0 think of you switching career paths?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, I haven’t seen him in a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m not buying that. I haven’t kept close tabs on what’s happening in Gotham, but I know Batman and Robin are still active.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim hesitates. Jason waits patiently. Finally, a little annoyance in his voice betraying his frustration, the younger boy admits:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick fired me. There’s a new Robin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason snorts. “You’re fucking with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim looks down, saying nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason starts laughing out loud. “Oh my God, you’re shitting me right? So the Replacement has been replaced! And you decided to come to me of all people for a new job? You want us to be Evil Batman and Evil Robin to good ol’ Bitchard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s funny, if you think about it. The Robin that failed and the Robin that got dumped, joining forces to represent failure as the holier than thou golden boy becomes the epitome of heroism. He can’t stop laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason expects Tim to get angry. He expects Tim to lash out and tell him to fuck off, say that he knew coming here was a waste of time and storm off. The longer Jason’s mockery goes, however, the quieter the boy gets. His expression is carefully empty, although there is an unnameable storm behind his gaze. Sometimes, Tim is so similar to Bruce  — stoic, a mind like a maze, a smug little shit - Jason forgets about all the ways in which he’s Bruce’s complete opposite. Tim doesn’t do lashing out. Not usually, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jason’s hollow laughter dies, the kid is sitting there as though nothing phases him. Not because he is a big bad bat with no emotions, but because he knows better than to show them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older boy breathes out slowly. “Alright, I’ll bite it. What exactly are you thinking, Pretender? Be brief and straight, I don’t have all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a beat. The kid is clearly trying to organize his ideas. That’s a first. Little Timmy usually has a plan from the get go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be useful,” he says. And that’s the truest thing Tim said all day. There is something raw in his voice that grabs Jason’s attention. Something that Tim hides before Jason can name it. “You said it yourself. We can do better if we work  together. Not as Batman and Robin, of course not. Just as ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason crosses his arms and starts tapping a finger to his arm. “I don’t believe you’re planning on killing anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, because I’m not going to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then? You’re gonna watch while I do the dirty job? Or you think you can stop me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a subtle quirk of Tim’s lips. Jason curses inwardly knowing the little satisfied smirk is there because Jason is negotiating. As though he already accepted this insane proposition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I can stop you every time,” Tim concedes. “We can make a deal, though. With me by your side, you won’t have to resort to murder that often. You promise me you’ll only kill if there’s no other way and, in exchange, I promise you I’ll make sure your cases will be solved a lot faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re awfully confident for someone that just got fired,” Jason deadpans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got fired a month ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re awfully confident for someone that’s been sitting on their ass for a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was actually working with the League of Assassins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That gives Jason a pause. “I’m sorry, you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a case I couldn’t solve on my own. Dick wouldn’t help. Ra’s did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, what, after working with Ra’s freaking Al Ghul you just decided it was time for a change of scenery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, for starters I like you a lot more than Ra’s. Second, Ra’s kinda fired me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad at this job interview thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim smirks. “To be fair, I took everything I needed then ruined a lot of League business before bailing on him, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there is that. Jason can count on one hand the things he knows about Tim Drake. One, he found out the identities of Batman, Nightwing and Robin II at age nine. Two, he was a rich kid and neighbor to the Waynes and now he has no family left, just like Jason. Three, he is annoyingly perfect and it makes Jason feel like shit. Four, he is the most unpredictable little shit to ever exist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And last but not least, he trusts Jason. Jason doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know if that makes him stupid or a genius in a way mere mortals can’t comprehend. Nonetheless, he has this unshakeable faith in Jason like no one had before. Not even Dick, who was supposed to be his brother. Jason doesn’t know what to make of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Ra’s is after your stupid ass and you want me to be your bodyguard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When Ra’s comes for me, I’ll have a plan to deal with him. Whether you’re a part of it or not, that’s up to you. Don’t worry about it for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounds like he has everything under control. Jason knows how to sound like that, too. All of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>batlings</span>
  </em>
  <span> do. Their entire lives they’re just playing it cool, looking dark, brooding and mysterious while inside they have no idea what’s going on nor how they’ll survive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Tim says, rolling his eyes. “You worked with back up and you worked alone. You know which one is better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a literal crime lord,” Jason reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the same. Having someone that knows who you are behind the mask makes all the difference in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them are addressing the elephant in the room, though. The biggest question looming over them. That’s also a bat thing. Both are aware, none speaks of it, and a taste of something unsolved is making their mouths bitter. The worst part is that they know the answer, even if it’s left unsaid, but do they really? Are they really arrogant to assume they know each other enough, that they’re smart enough to be aware of the truth?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did you offer to take me in? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why do you want to join me now?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Two questions. One answer.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll think about it,” Jason says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s smile is blinding. He knows a backhanded yes when he hears one. “I’m looking forward to hearing from you, Hood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piss off before I shoot you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim snickers and stands to leave. Jason keeps listening after the door closes, after the footsteps vanish down the hallway. He can still hear the sounds of traffic down the street, maybe the indistinct chatter from the neighbors. It still feels too quiet and the egg sized apartment could as well be as big as a manor after Tim leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer to both questions is </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to be alone anymore</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In case you're wondering why have Tim go to Ra's first... It's for plot reasons, not just because I wanted Tim to lose his spleen.</p><p> The next chapters are a bit longer and it really helps me get the ideas flowing when I receive feedback from the readers. So comments, pretty please with a cherry on top?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. i'm a hazard to myself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>and they become roommates (oh my god, they're roommates.)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: in this chapter, I refer to Tim having unhealthy eating habits. This is a recurring thing in this story based on my own experiences with food, and I don't intend on dwelling on it a lot nor making it very explicit. Regardless, if you're triggered by this sort of content, please stay safe and feel free to contact me through comments or on tumblr if you want more detailed warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Tim walks out of the crappy motel room, the sun is already up. He curses inwardly, guessing it must be past eight in the morning at least. He hadn’t meant to stay up all night, but that’s what happens more often than not. He remembers reading somewhere online that ADHD people have a different sleeping cycle, something about working better when sleeping from 2am to 10am or something. He didn’t read the full article because it didn’t seem that relevant at the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alas. Since he’s up, he might as well get himself some breakfast. He walks to the vending machine he was planning on visiting anyway. He blinks his blurry eyes trying to see the options in front of him. He considers buying just an energy drink and calling it a day, but he doesn’t think his empty stomach will appreciate that course of action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck? You’re still here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim turns around. Jason is in front of his own room, only half wearing his leather jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a paying customer?” Tim says. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question. God, he’s sleepy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d be back in Gotham by now,” Jason says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim frowns at him. “Where would I go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason considers that for a while. Usually, Tim would be bothered by being scanned like that, but he can’t find in himself to care or to try and figure what Jason might be thinking right now. Finally, the older boy sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got breakfast yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim gestures vaguely at the vending machine full of snacks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason stares, his expression empty. Then he rolls his eyes, grabs Tim by the collar and starts dragging him as though he’s a sack of potatoes. It’s a testament to how tired Tim really is that he stumbles and barely manages a noise of protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jason</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he whines, the tone in his voice catching even himself by surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple gives them a judgemental glance as they cross the street. Tim wonders what they look like to strangers. Tim’s clothes, while a lot more expensive than Jason’s, are battered and faded from his misadventures. His painfully pale skin doesn’t match Jason’s dark tan at all, even with all the freckles he got from having fun with assassins in the desert. Still, to a passerby, Tim’s juvenile tone and pathetic attempts to slap Jason’s hand away should make them look like bickering friends. In spite of Jason’s size, his young face still betrays his real age. They could pass as…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim straightens himself in a swift movement. Whether he’s finally successful in his attempt to free himself or Jason notices his tension and lets him go, is up for debate. He shakes his head and pretends that no stupid thought almost crossed his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Tim complains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason points at the building in front of them — an old diner — and walks in, expecting Tim to follow. He does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tired looking waitress squints at them as though she’s expecting trouble for whatever reason. Tim doesn’t know why, he’s sure they look perfectly innocent as they find themselves a place to sit. They make a beeline towards a table in a discreet corner, partially hidden behind a nook of the wall. The spot allows them to see almost all the other patrons without being too visible. Tim notes, but doesn’t comment on the fact that both of them chose that spot seemingly at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they sit across one another, however, Tim has a weird feeling in his gut. Maybe it’s the sleepless night, but he has a hard time not thinking about the last time he sat across Jason like this: the older boy had been in jail and Tim’s stupid plan to get him out resulted in… well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Babs used to say Tim talked a lot or didn’t talk at all, and she had been the first person to realize that the former meant Tim wasn’t thinking and the latter meant he was thinking too much. Tim does what he does best when he’s nervous or uncomfortable: he starts talking. A terrible mistake in retrospect, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you buying me breakfast?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason glares at him. “You’re richer than I am. Buy your own food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. Plus you dragged me here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you were a paying customer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, at the hotel. Credit cards are hackable and Babs taught me a thing or two in case I ever found myself in a tight spot, which I definitely am right now.” Tim points at the ‘cash only’ sign behind the counter. “The pocket change I have is cool for a vending machine, but a diner is fancier than what I’m ready for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason groans and rolls his eyes. Tim thinks that the closest thing he’ll get from a yes, so he takes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without talking about it and even though they’re not talking about anything too secretive, they go silent when the waitress walks towards their table. Rather than greeting them, she shows her little notepad and arches an eyebrow at them. Tim is loving the service already, it’s doing great things to his nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coffee. Black,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to Jason, but he’s still looking at Tim as though waiting for him to say something else. When Tim simply gives him a quizzical look, Jason appears annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean black coffee?” Jason says. “You’re making me pay for your food and you’re not even ordering actual food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… I’m fine? I don’t eat much this early, it makes me nauseous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, kid. We gonna have your largest order of pancakes for this stupid child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim kicks him under the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Little shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jason hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Tim almost falls over when he pushes his chair to avoid being kicked back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cut it </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jason!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While their feet battle under the table, the waitress rolls her eyes and walks away. Tim really wishes he could give this place a five star review.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jason’s sole finally connects to Tim’s chair and he has to hold onto the table to avoid toppling over, he groans:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. You lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim stares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Admit you lost and I stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, you oversized baby, I lost!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason smiles. It’s stupid to get so worked up at such a small thing, not to mention how extremely out of place it feels after his little vacation with the League. Still, Tim can’t help but think this is the first time he’s seen Jason look so satisfied. Annoyingly smug, sure, but satisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence stretches. Jason grabs a napkin from the table and starts methodically tearing it apart for no apparent reason. Tim wishes he thought of doing something like that, because his hands are itching to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’d look dumb if he started doing the same thing as Jason, wouldn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were rich,” Jason says, startling Tim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, reprimanding himself for spacing out. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get not using your own credit card so you can’t be tracked,” Jason says, “but you’re so obsessed with planning everything. I kinda expected you to have a secret stash of money somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim frowns. “What, you think I just stole Bruce’s money before leaving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Jason mentions it, that would’ve been smarter. It’s not like Dick would miss it, and money would’ve left less of a trail than the fake credit cards he’d been using. Maybe Ra’s wouldn’t have found him if… He’s spacing out again. Jason is speaking. Crap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... your other father?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs a few blinks to realize what Jason means. “My dad lost everything before he died. You didn’t know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, so what are you going to do when you go back to Gotham? Go back to the manor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim frowns. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’d take you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Tim gives him a pointed look. Jason realizes his misstep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” he grits out. “Don’t you dare say it. We’re not the same by any means.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say anything,” Tim says simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never does. Ever since he reached that weird truce with Jason, Tim only said it once. He said that Jason should go back; Jason told him to fuck off. Tim said that Bruce wanted him back and Dick missed him; Jason told him to be quiet. Tim told him that Alfred wanted to see him; Jason stormed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since then, in the very few times they’ve met and talked like semi-civilized people, Tim never brought up Jason going home again. Jason seems to firmly believe that he’ll never be forgiven. Tim knows that he’s the last person Jason wants to talk about family, and it’s not like he has any arguments that could change his mind, so Tim keeps quiet. It works, unless one of them (usually Jason) is trying to kill the other (Tim). Even now, after the whole clusterfucker before Tim’s trip - had it really happened a few weeks ago? - there is no doubt in his mind that Dick and Alfred would take Jason back with open arms, more than willing to work on their issues. Perhaps Dick would still be a bit upset about Jason shooting Damian, but hey, the kid barely stayed down for a day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it is now, neither of them are planning to go back. Once more, the question looms over them. Why would Tim make the same mistake again? What was that fancy quote about insanity? Something about doing the same thing and expecting a miracle or whatever. Tim hopes Jason won’t ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then again, if Jason asks Tim why he wants to stay, he’ll have to explain why he’s accepting it, and Tim doesn’t think he’s too keen on that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waitress comes back with their food. Tim twists his nose at the pile of pancakes in front of him. Jason threateningly points a fork at him until he sighs and starts eating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re taking off after I’m done eating, so get to chewing, Replacement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim feels a smile stretching his lips. “We?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a smartass. If I regret this, I’ll dump your ass in the middle of the road.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t do, boss. It’s part of Robin’s job to call you out on your shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not Robin anymore, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wipes Tim’s smile off pretty fast. He has to keep reminding himself that Jason can be as much of an asshole as Tim can, if not worse. He resumes eating in silence, pretending he’s too mature to be bothered by Jason’s stupid smug face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never mind that he has to grit his teeth to hold back at least three different smart retorts. He doesn’t want to risk Jason giving up on him out of spite and the son of a bitch knows it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim takes his sweet time poking at his pancakes and sipping his coffee, hoping that Jason will be done first and they’ll leave. When Jason realizes what he’s doing, he starts barking out threats and insults until Tim is kicking him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t stop fighting until Tim’s plate is empty and his stomach is filled to the brim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waitress looks unreasonably relieved when Jason throws a couple of crumpled bills at the counter and they turn to leave. Tim didn’t think they made a fuss big enough to warrant that reaction. But, then again, maybe they just look like trouble makers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going back to Gotham?” Tim asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think, genius?” Jason rolls his eyes. “God, my territory must be a mess by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one told you to fall from that height, dude, I’m surprised you’re not out of commission for longer,” Tim says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Replacement, I swear to God…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just sayin’,” and his mocking smile is back. “We’re going to one of your infamous safehouses?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one in Burnley? Or the one behind Crime Alley? Or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason stops walking. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No one likes a smartass, Tim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jokes on you, no one likes me anyway.” Tim grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure Dick doesn’t know about the Burnley one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess that’s where we’re going then,” Jason huffs. “Can’t have them breathin’ on my neck while I get my stuff together. Can’t believe I have a fucking kid now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re only two years older than me, Jason. Less, if we consider you were dead for a couple months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason ignores that. “You better not go running to them, Replacement. You’re on your trial run. You fuck this up, you not gonna like the consequences.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Jason will find out soon enough how good he is at keeping secrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They grab their things at the hotel, not that Tim has a lot of luggage. Jason grabs a motorcycle that definitely isn’t his. Tim doesn’t comment on it, because the one he’s currently riding was paid with money that wasn’t his either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hit the road, and the sleepless night and the breakfast still threatening to come back don’t bother Tim as much, because he feels like he’s finally moving again. Finally has a sense of purpose again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim didn’t expect to </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Jason. He thought he’d look around his place, help him set up a functional computer system - how Jason survived alone for so long with the tech he had was beyond Tim - and then he’d leave to figure out what to do. His credit card fraud system wouldn’t work as well in Gotham, at least not if Barbara was in town, but he was willing to figure it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that he came this far without a plan told him that his month with the assassins had thrown him off his game. He’d grown used to winging it because the last weeks had been so unfairly unpredictable, but he has to go back to his old modus operandi as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or at least that’s what he thought, until he emerged from the secret Red Hood bunker downstairs and Jason casually told him to take the vacant room upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That solved a lot of logistic issues, so Tim forces his mouth shut and heads upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you forget about the heavy arsenal in the secret basement (a secret that Tim will spend the whole weekend tinkering because holy shit, his childhood bedroom was more secure)  the house is almost… normal. Like an abandoned middle class house. There are boards on the windows and signs that it should’ve been demolished at some point. Other than that, Jason had made the place a functional home. It’s a bit sparse in the furniture department and not unlike the hotel room Tim found Jason in: mismatched pieces, old wood and dust everywhere. There are marks on the wallpaper where pictures had presumably hung once, but that was probably before Jason took over the place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurs to Tim that he’s probably going to be on cleaning duty, which is a bit worrisome. As much as he’s okay with less than hospitable places, he’s never had to clean. Ever. He hopes there’s a YouTube tutorial on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His new room clearly belonged to a very feminine person at some point, and all they left behind was an old bed with no sheets, a beaten dresser and marks on the pink walls where posters had probably been. Tears in the wallpaper hint they were carelessly ripped off. Tim carefully removes the mirror from the dresser and puts it out of sight before dumping his duffel bag near the bed. Home, sweet home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone clears his throat by the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning against the frame as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself, Jason crosses and uncrosses his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going on patrol in a bit. Gotta assess the situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim nods and waits. This would usually be the time Bruce gave them instructions for  the night. Jason shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Whether he’s deliberately trying to be less like Bruce - which is futile, since Bruce is the only reference he has - or he simply doesn’t know how to handle a sidekick… Tim takes pity on him and says:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be ready to join you in five.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason aqcuiesces stiffly. Then heads down the hallway. Tim swears he hears Jason mumbling to himself as he leaves, which would be amusing if he wasn’t feeling just as awkward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs the light chainmail armor from his bag and puts it on. The black, sleek outfit that follows still feels uncomfortable and foreign, but Tim supposes it will have to do. He hesitates before pulling on the black hood and even more before reaching for the Spoiler-like mask that will only cover the lower half of his face. Finally, he discards the piece of fabric to a corner. Associating the thing with Steph does the opposite of making him feel better about it. He’ll have to ask Jason if he has a spare domino mask he can borrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heads downstairs just as Jason is emerging from the kitchen in almost full Red Hood gear, his helmet under his arm. He tries to ignore the tug at his stomach when he sees it. Judging by Jason’s expression, he was thinking something similar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck are you wearing, Replacement</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Discreet clothes for an undercover mission. What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> wearing?” Tim tries to play it off as nothing, but, judging by Jason’s expression, he’s failing. “Look, I didn’t have Robin anymore, okay? I had to wear something and this is what Ra’s gave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m not going out with a mini-League of Assassins recrutee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim wishes he had a logical argument against that. He thinks there is one, but the sleepless night is finally getting to him and he can’t think straight. “Well, damn, Jason, what do you expect me to do? Go out in civies? Not all of us can pull off the leather jacket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older boy considers him for a moment, and an irrational part of Tim’s brain keeps him frozen on the spot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is it. This is when he realizes this has been a mistake, and me thinking he’s like me was a gross miscalculation. He’s going to send me away. He’s going to tell me to go away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay here,” Jason says. “Now that I think about it, if I go alone there’s less of a chance of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> finding out I’m back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is panicking, but not hard enough that he misses the opportunity to quip: “I’m not the one with a bright red helmet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up. Do digital detective work while I’m gone. Can you find out what happened in my territory for the past month without bringing Oracle down my ass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I can. What do you think I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inferior to Barbara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bitch…</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Tim pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Okay, fair, I am. But she isn’t actively looking for me and I know her M.O.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason nods. “Then do your thing. I’ll be back in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim watches him head to the door. So he isn’t fired again, which is good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jason?” He calls, because apparently he can’t take a win and keep his damn mouth shut. “I’m not going to stay indoors. I’m not the computer guy. I’m in this to fight crime and I didn’t look for you to stay back because you don’t like my fashion choices.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason looks absolutely disgusted  at that. “The problem with smart people like you is that you keep thinking everyone else is a fucking idiot. I’m not. And you know that, since you chose to come after me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim could tell him Jason offered first. That would lead to a childish back-and-forth until accusing the other of starting wouldn’t be enough and they would have a fist fight on top of the ratty couch. Considering the thing looks like it’s about to collapse under the mildest gust of wind, Tim wisely stays quiet for once in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns around and heads to the kitchen, to the secret entrance that leads to the secret basement. He hears when Jason leaves. He’s still pouting when he boots the stupid computer in serious need of an update.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s going to hate this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim hates that he enjoys himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been quite a long time since he worked in such a simple case. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it is to work on a puzzle and watch the pieces fall together with ease. Like skating for fun after spending months practicing complicated maneuvers. He doesn’t see time going by as he takes notes and prints info, compiling a thorough report on everything Jason missed, up to some cold trails from when he was in Blackgate.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t remember falling asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least not until he wakes up and immediately lets out an unholy screech because his bed vanishes under him. Except he isn’t on his bed, he’s spinning around on the computer chair and he scrambles to stay on the seat before the chair finally hits the wall and stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the shock is gone, he looks up and finds a rather smug Red Hood smirking at him from across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the… Did you seriously kick my chair?” Tim gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My chair,” Jason corrects. “That I let you borrow in exchange for work. Slacking on the service on the first day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim shoots up. “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Fuck you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason blinks, his eyes widening. “Easy there. And I’m the one with anger issues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gathered everything that there is to find from the past month,” he protests, frantic and irritated all at the same time. “Sure, I didn’t finish the time you were locked up, but that’s because your internet is fucking slow. Give me until morning and I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strong hands grab his wrists and Tim looks up. Jason’s expression is so oddly telling that Tim thinks he’s trying to manipulate him somehow. His brows are knitted together and his warm brown eyes are still mildly wide. Enough that Tim can see the specks of green in the dark iris, a reminder of Jason’s dip in the Lazarus Pit. He tries to come up with an explanation, because Jason has no reason to make Tim think he’s worried about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t expect you to be done before I got home. And I didn’t expect you to get info about the time I was in jail either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is confused. He misinterpreted his mess up? “You didn’t want me to know what was going on before? That’s counterproductive. Plus a lot of this isn’t new information, I was monitoring…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim,” Jason cuts him off again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s weird that he says Tim and not Robin. It’s correct, because Tim isn’t Robin anymore, but this is Robin time regardless. Tim feels as though he’s back at the cave and he’s 13 years old. This time he doesn’t have Dick’s hesitant encouragement or Alfred’s worried glances, but it feels too similar to being around a grief-stricken man, broken almost beyond repair. That man is his boss and, in order to earn his stay, Tim has to succeed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except next time Jason speaks, he doesn’t sound like Bruce. Not like Bruce after he started healing. Definitely not like Bruce sounded when he first met Tim. He sounds - and that’s extremely weird - like Cassie when she found Tim pulling an all-nighter reviewing the case files. It was right after they got their team approved and could take over Titans Tower. Tim had to make sure everything was running smoothly, but Cassie thought not sleeping after sparring all-day was a bad call. She had been absolutely bewildered by the concept, for some reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s ridiculous that Red Hood reminds him of Wonder Girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t fucking care that you checked old news,” Jason says. “I’m just surprised you’re done already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s brow furrows and he reviews the night, again trying to assess his mistake. “You said I was supposed to do digital work while you were on patrol,” he repeats slowly, almost to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jason agrees, letting go of his wrists. “I thought you were gonna collect some info and go to bed. Continue tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim gives in and straight up asks: “And you’re angry because…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not?” Jason is the one looking confused now. “You think me kicking your chair was me being angry? I was just being a jerk. I didn’t think you were that sensitive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Tim feels his cheeks warming. “I-I’m not! That is, I don’t care that you kicked the chair and sent me careening across the room while I was asleep.” There’s a beat. “Wait, no, I do care about that, what the hell, Jason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’m gonna make it up to you. Don’t get used to it, though. Just come here and take a look.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim notices a bundle of what looks like fabric on the computer desk. It definitely wasn’t there before he dozed off. His confusion peaks when he notices it isn’t simply fabric… it’s leather and kevlar and a freaking cowl connected to a cape and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stole Dr. Mid-Nite’s suit?” Tim asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha- No, dumbass! It’s my suit! My old suit, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim takes it and holds it in front of him. It’s a bit heavier than his old Robin suit, but it looks more resistant, if not as much malleable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From the time you went to a different dimension,” Tim gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the fuck do you know that?” Jason asks, bewildered again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim turns to him. “Why do you have this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason shrugs. “I grew out of it. Figured you could have it. You’re a bit taller than I was then, and skinnier too, but nothing you can’t work around. Beats making a whole new suit from scratch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Words fail him and he simply stares at the suit, unresponsive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t like it, deal with it,” Jason says, suddenly less blase. It’s almost as though he’s nervous. “Or make a new suit, I don’t care. Just don’t go out in that stupid ninja suit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R.R.” Tim mutters, his voice hollow. “What does R.R. stands for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Jason’s turn to hesitate. Silent stretches for a little before he blurts: “Red Robin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Tim says, eloquent as ever. “What’s with all the red? I thought your favorite color was green.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>How do you-</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jason sighs. “Whatever. Grab your shit and get the hell out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim whips around, alarmed again. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I wanna fucking change,” he gestures at his clothes, “and it’s weird to do it with your scrawny ass down here. This ain’t the Batcave, I only got one room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. That sort of “leaving”. That makes more sense. “Right. I’m gonna go… uh... “ Where, again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To bed,” Jason snaps. “You’re gonna sleep on an actual bed instead of drooling all over my keyboard. Scram.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding jerkily, Tim obeys. The suit he holds tightly against his chest feels heavy and not because of all the body armor hidden within layers of leather.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I'll break it to you easy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jason thinks Tim needs an education</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jason Todd is many things. A street rat. A literature nerd. A former hero. A crime-lord. Dealing with anger issues. Ignoring a whole lot of other issues. But he isn’t an idiot. And, while he’s been bamboozled more times he can count, he realizes Tim Drake is a bigger conundrum than he anticipated. He isn’t about to be fooled again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought he had Tim figured out. Rich kid. Too smart for his own good. Smug beyond repair. No regard for his own well-being. Incapable of holding grudges. He thought the kid couldn’t surprise him, not in a way that mattered, until that first night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when he starts taking note of the small things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saturday is uneventful. Jason wishes he could say he forgets he isn’t living alone anymore, but, even though Tim makes little to no noise as he sleeps the morning away, Jason is painfully aware that he has a roommate. He can’t focus on his book, he can’t focus on the absurdly detailed report Tim made him. He definitely can’t focus on anything else after Tim flies down the stairs like a speedster, blurts out something that could’ve been </span>
  <em>
    <span>good morning</span>
  </em>
  <span> and disappears in the kitchen. Jason heads to his room, assuming the kid is getting himself breakfast, and he tries to take a nap. He fails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After giving up and heading downstairs to make dinner, he finds the kitchen as clean as he left </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> did Tim do the dishes? Did he eat at all? </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> and he can barely hear faint noises downstairs. He makes a mental note to fix the sound proofness of his walls as he climbs down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his Office, like Jason calls it, he finds Tim wearing headphones. The music is loud enough that Jason can clearly hear muffled heavy metal. The computer is half dismantled, half loading something somehow, and Tim is carefully tinkering with the suit Jason gave him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of throwing something at him like he wants to, Jason walks into his field of view and waves at his face. Tim takes off the headphones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck you doing?” Jason asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fixing stuff. I know you love Jane Austen, but do you have to use the same software she used to write?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason punches him in the shoulder. He regrets it instantly and curses at himself inwardly. Tim, however, doesn’t even flinch. He snickers as though that was the reaction he expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh. Jason files that away for later analysis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets Tim to suit up and they head out for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t go together per se, as Red Hood is still laying low, planting the seeds subtly so no one notices until he’s ready to make an entrance. He gets intel. Ruins the plan of a very misguided small dealer. And finally saves a pair of prostitutes from a harasser. He wears nothing but a domino mask all night, because there are only a few key players that must know Red Hood is back. He smiles at the girls after he’s done and they get excited asking him if he’s the Red Hood. He takes off without answering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Hood has always been popular with prostitutes, as weird as that sound. What can Jason say? The girls that worked near the street he grew up in were the nicest people he knew; he has a soft spot for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He meets up with Tim near the end of the night and he finds that Tim’s spoken reports are a lot briefer than his written ones: he stopped some muggings. Probably broke the kneecaps of some creep near the park. Confirmed intel he got from his research. He actually saved a cat stuck on a tree too, which makes Jason roll his eyes. They go back to Jason’s place without further ado. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sunday is more of the same, except Jason manages to actually sleep. That is, until the sound of a hammer wakes him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds Tim in his living room dismantling an old television he got from God knows where. The shouting match that follows should make things more awkward, but instead it makes them easier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turns out Tim doesn’t mind exchanging insults or having dusty pillows thrown at him, and Jason feels more at ease by the time they swallow cold sandwiches and head out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has this unreasonable pang of anxiety when Tim vanishes into the shadows, but he shakes it off. The Red Robin suit is getting better everyday and, thanks to the cowl, Tim looks older and more menacing than he actually is, meaning no one is going to fuck with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s fine. They have a plan. It’s working. There are rumors that Hood is back, though nothing but whispers. Enough to stir his territory without getting unwanted attention from the better neighborhoods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until Monday at around 1pm that the other shoe drops. Jason wakes up scratching his belly and walks past Tim on the way to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Tim mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Replacement,” he says back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid is fucking with something that smells like oil on the kitchen table. Jason thinks to himself he should have words with him about it… after his morning tea. Morning tea at 1pm, but still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s boiling water and staring blankly at Tim when he realizes: it’s Monday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what the fuck are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim stares at him. Back at the myriad of circuits spread around the table. Then back at Jason</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrist computer,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kitchen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home! You’re, like, 17, right? Shouldn’t you be at school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim stares at him as though he’s grown a second head. “Jason. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I stopped going to school after my father died again and I traveled abroad to work with an organization of murderers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a fucking month ago. You get a month of skipped classes, your dad died. Now that you’re here, you can go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chin actually drops and Jason is greeted by the sight of a nearly white chewed gum threatening to fall from Tim’s open mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going back to high school. Are you insane?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> insane? Of course you’re going back to school. Don’t you have, I don’t know, friends or a girlfriend or… whatever!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t?” Tim scowls. “You want me to go to school so I can date? Why don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> go to school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone thinks I’m dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, heck off, you don’t get to pull the death card with me,” Tim rolls his eyes. “It works with Dick and Bruce, but I’m immune.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fact that you still say heck off means you definitely should be at school around people your age. Get some bullies. It builds character.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s pale cheeks go crimson and Jason has to bite back a grin. Knowing that Tim blushes like that opens so many teasing opportunities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, I got used to it because Alfred got mad at us for cursing! And I don’t need school to get bullied, I have you right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason decides to test a theory. It’s a wicked idea, but Jason isn’t known for fighting fair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim. I ain’t raising an uneducated goblin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>seventeen</span>
  </em>
  <span>! You’re not fucking raising me! You’re like a muscular child sharing a place with a slightly smaller child!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t go back to school, the deal is off. I’m not keeping you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, just like that, Tim closes his mouth and all the color drains from his face. Jason expected this. He doesn’t feel great about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-you… Dick will notice if I start going back to school,” he tries. “This is against the plan. Batman will know we’re working together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. He’ll know you’re back in town. Make an excuse. I know you’re great at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This will affect my productivity. I won’t be able to upgrade your gear as fast and I’ll have to sleep more. This is-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Non-negotiable. School or no partnership.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason knows it’s too late for him. It might be too late for Tim, too. But not late enough that Jason will let him give up. Tim may never have a normal life - the fact that he’s working with his almost murderer more than proves it. Jason selfishly wants to make sure he has at least a little normality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is about Jason, not Tim. Jason doesn’t think he can live with another deadman walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Tim says, like he’s agreeing to a death sentence. “I’m going back to school tomorrow. You happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hella,” Jason says.  He turns back to his tea. “And Tim? I’ll know if you’re skipping and I’ll kill you if you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim starts listing a colorful collection of insults a lot worse than </span>
  <em>
    <span>heck off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jason grins at him and Tim, in his teenage rage, doesn’t seem to notice that the smile doesn’t reach Jason’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Jason's theory is confirmed. Tim Drake doesn’t care about attempts on his life. He isn’t afraid to fight an armed man. He isn’t afraid of having a familiar person taking a swing at him, so Jason doesn’t think that he has issues with physical abuse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing freaks him out as much as someone critiquing his work, though. And not in the asshole way, that would be way too easy. As cocky as he is, Tim doesn’t look like the type to think he can do no wrong. He wouldn’t get irrationally angry over someone pointing out he can do better. He does, however, flip out at the mere possibility that he’s done something wrong and didn’t own up to it already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason thought he knew Tim until he jokingly complained about him sleeping on the job and saw genuine horror in his eyes. Horror like never before, not even when Jason beat him and tried to leave him for dead. Hell, at that point the kid said he was a better Robin right before passing out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who did this to him, Jason wonders? Who convinced Tim that the worst he can be isn’t a high school dropout or even a dead boy, but a person who messes up?  His biological parents? Bruce? Is Tim even aware of it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t know, and he isn't sure what to do about it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can</span>
  </em>
  <span> he do something about it? He remembers far too well, thinking Bruce brought him in because he wanted another Robin. How every time he made Bruce laugh, or solved a case, it felt like a victory. How every time he got scolded, he expected Bruce to send him back to where he came from. He remembers having that fear confirmed when he heard from Talia that he’d been replaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is there really something to be done?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite a good deal of complaining about work hours, Tim starts going to school. Jason hounds him to make sure he isn’t lying and he’s pretty sure he’ll have to keep checking regularly, because, if he learned anything about Tim, is that the kid is scarily patient and spiteful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stalks him all the way to school on the first day, making it painfully obvious that he’s there even if Tim puts a lot of effort into pretending he can’t see him. He pops at Tim’s classroom window and waves cheerfully as Tim flips the bird at him. Waking up early was hell, but Jason finds it ridiculously fun to make Tim annoyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Friday, Jason decides to pick Tim up after class just to keep him on his toes… then he almost crashes his motorcycle into a lamppost when he sees a fancy car and a familiar man leaning against it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick Grayson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the fun distractions Jason came up with, his whole damn body still remembers the beating he took. He wonders if Dick took as long to recover after that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fake second death would be really short-lived but, lucky for him, Dick is preoccupied with something else. Jason parks around the corner. His height wouldn’t allow him to hide among the flux of rich kids walking out of school looking for their chauffeurs, but he has to come closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, time to get those stealthy muscles to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ironically, it was Dick who taught him that the best hiding spot was in plain sight, and that’s how he casually walks behind the sports car and heads towards a beaten phone booth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick doesn’t notice him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether it was thanks to Jason’s skills or the fact that the older man looks like he’s having an internal anxiety attack, Jason may never find out. He does, however, hear it when Tim’s voice lets out a long word that definitely isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>heck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He risks taking a peek at the duo and sees Dick smiling. He looks tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Timbo,” he greets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that,” Tim groans. He would’ve sounded like your everyday grumpy teenager, but there’s too much tension in his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back,” Dick says. “Were you planning on telling anyone you’re around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming you don’t mind, since you kept paying for my school. I was also checking to see how long it’d take you to find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason almost snorts. Who knew the kid had it in him? Furthermore, it’s impressive how Tim methodically and deliberately hid all signs of displeasure. He looks earnestly happy to see Dick and he almost makes his barb sound like friendly banter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Timmy, you were gone for almost two months. Where were you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was pursuing a lead. It didn’t pan out. So I’m back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick is quiet after that. Jason assumes he knows damn well Tim isn’t one to give up just like that. At the same time, JAson can see Dick assessing the differences between the kid in front of him and the kid he last saw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go home. We need to talk,” he says finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I can’t. I’m heading to a friend’s house so we can do homework together. I have a lot to catch up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right, Dick.” Tim smiles softly. “Damian needs you now. I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick flinches. “I didn’t mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he chuckles. “Let me rephrase that: I’m fine. You know, when you first asked me to help Bruce, I planned on staying for a few months. A year, tops. I was always supposed to go back to my normal life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Timmy, you’re family,” Dick pleads. “Your normal life doesn’t include going home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s expression is empty of emotion when he replies: “I need space now. I’m not going back, Dick. I’m sorry. I have a place to stay. You don’t have to worry about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Where</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you staying? Do you need help setting up anything or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll text you the address later. Right now I really need to go, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick presses his lips into a tight line. He hesitates before reaching out to hug him. Surprisingly to Jason, Tim allows it and even hugs him back, even if not as tightly as Dick does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason didn’t realize that. The whole time, he thought Tim needed his older brother and Dick was painfully blind to it. It never occurred to him how Dick also needed Tim. He wonders if Dick felt lost when Tim went away, or if he realized how messed up it was to rely on a teenager.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jason’s file on Wayne drama keeps growing thicker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come over for dinner tomorrow?” Dick tries again. “Alfie misses you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And annoy Damian in the process? I’d love to.” Tim deadpans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick finally pulls away from the hug. “He’s made a lot of progress. You’d be surprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he doesn’t remember I punched him before I left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim. Dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I say no to free food?” Tim gives him a crooked smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick moves as though it’s painful to let Tim go. He retreats to his car as slowly as it’s humanly possible, like he expects Tim to change his mind and join him. Tim smiles and waves until Dick vanishes around the corner. His look turns hollow, but none of the kids walking past him seems to notice it. Not even when Tim calls out:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can come out now. He’s really gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason pretends not to hear two girls letting out startled little squeals when he leaves his hiding spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was cold blooded, Replacement,” Jason says, stretching his hand to Tim. “I knew you were a liar, but that was impressive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without blinking, Tim takes out a tracker from the collar of his shirt and another from his hair. He hands both to Jason. “I didn’t lie, mostly,” he says. “I did plan on leaving after Bruce got better. Or at least when we found a better </span>
  <em>
    <span>replacement. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That didn’t work like I expected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t say anything as he casually crushes one of the trackers under his boot and places the other on a random kid passing by. He knows how magical it feels to be Robin. He doesn’t think he could quit out of free will. He still remembers the addicting adrenaline that makes you feel like you’re really a bird soaring across the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until you’re not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He notices it when Tim looks down at his own feet. Without thinking, he reaches for Tim’s head and messes up his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon. I got the parts you asked. You can finish tinkering your suit tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They take the night off. It’s too risky going patrolling the night Dick found out about Tim’s return. Instead, they sit in the living room and Jason turns on the TV while Tim finishes adjusting the suit. The documentary about fish only keeps Jason’s attention for about five minutes before he notices Tim is butchering his cowl. Of course they start bickering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new mask isn’t quite a domino. It still has a nose guard similar to a bird’s beak that creates the illusion that Tim’s nose is more aquiline rather than a small snub, which is good to hide one’s identity. Still, Jason thinks going out without head protection is fucking stupid and Tim goes on a rant about looking like he’s wearing a condom on his head. Jason didn’t say anything when Tim replaced the old bandoliers with yellow ones with more compartments. The condom head thing hurts, though, and he ends up beating the shit out of Tim with a couch pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A good deal of screaming and kicking each other later, they return to the task of redesigning. Tim replaces the RR in the middle of his chest with a bird-like symbol that hides a panic button. He switches the black gloves for sleeker red ones, although the middle finger and indicator are black. Jason thinks Tim is trying to make it more dramatic when he flips the bird (heh. Robin flipping bird) but Tim punches Jason’s shoulder and says the new gloves allow him to use his wrist pad more easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason hits him when he notices he weakened some of the defenses, and they bicker some more before Tim gives in and puts the shin guards and knee protectors back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cowl and the cape are gone, much to Jason’s annoyance, and he says Tim’ll look stupid. Tim calls him a knock-off Iron Man. Jason tries to smother him to death with a pillow when Tim doesn’t stop laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the most fun Jason had in… God, how long? He doesn’t remember the last time he could just joke back and forth like this. It doesn’t do good to your reputation as a crime lord if you give the drug dealers a noogie. Tim, on the other hand? Tim gets at least five noogies a day because he’s a dumbass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until they head to their rooms, later that night, that Jason realizes he hasn’t thought about his fight with Dick at all since they started working on the suit. He would've never guessed Tim’s presence wouldn’t be a bitter reminder of everything Jason lost, but rather than a good distraction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another week goes by before the suit is finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason swallows his pride and admits (to himself, at least) that getting rid of the cape was a smart move when he and Tim stand next to each other in full uniform. Tim’s new outfit doesn’t look out of place near Jason’s bulletproof vest and leather jacket. They’re a lot less dramatic than the Bats, and Jason likes that. They’re their own team, not one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comms?” Jason asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tested and protected. Even Oracle would have to manually tinker with them to get into our frequency.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you decided your field name yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim hesitates. “I… Red Robin is fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason nods. “Plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Break into Black Mask’s warehouse through the vent, plant…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red Robin,” he cuts off. “Plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim sighs. “Make Roman our bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Atta boy. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an operation as simple as it is petty: Black Mask thought he could take over one of Hood’s warehouses. Jason was going to prove him wrong. It wasn’t a key hideout, but it was a relatively safe place if you were in the business of laundering money </span>
  <span>— </span>
  <span>discreet, easy to access without being noticed by the pigs, with most of the sewers around it hadn’t been blown up, which was always a plus. Hood was almost sure Roman took it just to show that he could and turned it into a drug warehouse to spite Hood. The fact that he disliked drugs wasn’t exactly a secret, after all. Szazs probably was involved in the process, Jason was sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, Tim convinced him the stealthy approach was better. Just get in, ruin the whole operation and, by the time Black Mask realized it, he had lost a ton of money. Poetic justice and all that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason complained about the plan being boring, but, as they get on their bikes to head out, he feels almost jittery. He doesn’t know if it’s just the thrill of being on the field again after so long </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> sue him, he’s an adrenaline junkie </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> or the prospect of the petty revenge. Either way, Red Hood grins under the helmet and, almost as though he can see his expression </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> or as though he’s feeling the same </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> Red Robin smirks back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like that, they take off into the night. The wind howls past them as Hood leads the race, fast enough that it seems like he’s riding aimlessly. It doesn’t mean he isn’t choosing the way methodically. He knows he’s picking the right streets, the dark ones in which the dark red leather merges perfectly with the shadows. They rush past buildings with closed windows, sure that no one is stupid enough to glance at the two suspiscious riders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Hood makes a sharp turn that would’ve made a less experienced driver fall into the asphalt. He hears Red Robin whooping excitedly behind him and he can’t help but laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’re just a few blocks from the warehouse, they stop. At this point, Hood almost considers throwing the plan away </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> crashing the motorcycle into the place would make for an excellent entrance </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> but, as though reading his thoughts, Red Robin gives him a pointed look before getting off his bike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a wet blanket,” Hood says, even though no words were truly exchanged before that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re a drama queen,” Red Robin retorts. And he grapples up to the nearest rooftop before Hood can give him a noogie for that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lighter and more agile, Red leads the way now and Hood is happy to be his shadow until they reach the strategic spot they picked </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> the two story building next door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank god this place didn’t crumble,” Hood comments absently. “The other buildings are too far for a clear view.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red gives him a strange look. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>checked</span>
  </em>
  <span> whether it was still standing while we were planning the attack. Do you not verify the surroundings when you’re making strategies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like to leave room for improvisation; I’m not a stick in the mud like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red rolls his eyes under the mask as he reaches for the binoculars in his belt. Hood does the same. There shouldn’t be a lot of activity tonight if their intel is correct, and it looks like it is. They can’t see the inside of the warehouse </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> which is why Red Hood liked the place so much, damn it  </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> but they can still see the roof as clearly as they can see the vent they chose to… Hood freezes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Hood?” Red Robin calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason pulls a face under the hood. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember our plan to lay low so Batman doesn’t notice us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember how I wanted to check on the rogues and you told me to stop being a stick in the mud?” He hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one likes a bitching vigilante, Red.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Freaking Poison Ivy is here.” Red Robin gestures widely at the roof of the warehouse, as though Red Hood can’t see the green lady trying to get in through the very same vent they planned on using.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, that’s the beauty of crime fighting. You make a plan. The plan goes wrong. You throw the plan away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my freaking God,” he groans, “this is Young Justice all over again, but worse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the complaining, they seem to be in agreement about what to do next: they take their grapple guns and shoot at Ivy’s blindspot. Red Robin is already getting his rebreather to filter whatever toxins they’re about to face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys land almost silently all things considered. Without thinking, Hood points at  the other side of the roof and crosses an X in front of his lips, before closing a fist. Red Robin nods and sprints without a question.</span>
</p><p><span>For the second time, Jason freezes. The instructions were clear </span><span>—</span> <em><span>take the other side, we’re going for a surprise attack after cornering her </span></em><em><span>—</span></em> <span>but they shouldn’t have been. He didn’t realize he kept using those gestures to give orders, because he hadn’t had anyone working this close to him in literal years. He didn’t realize he still remembered the whole language </span><span>—</span><span> ASL, but also specific gestures that only made sense among Bats </span><span>—</span><span> until he had Red Robin following his orders. Something in his stomach feels heavy. </span></p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hood</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Do you copy?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Says a hushed voice in his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. Get it together, Jason.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses the comm button. “Listening.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the line, Red Robin sighs. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh thank god, I thought the comms were suddenly fried. I’m in position.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Hang on,” he says. He finally starts moving, extra careful not to make any noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You good, man?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Red asks, and Hood can practically see the confused furrow of his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, be quiet before Ivy hears us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally gets close enough to see her </span>
  <span>— </span>
  <span>she’s unscrewing the air vent cover to get in, even though she could probably just get a giant peach to roll over the place or something. It looks like Red Hood and Red Robin weren’t the only ones trying to be stealthy tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes one step closer, and many things happen at the same time: the metal roof creaks under his boot. Ivy goes stiff for half a second. Then Jason is doing a backflip to avoid being bombarded with</span>
  <em>
    <span> freaking thorns? </span>
  </em>
  <span>When the hell did Ivy add a machine gun of thorns to her arsenal?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red Hood?” She stands, frowning. “Huh. I heard you were dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that a lot,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches for his guns as Ivy waves her hand gracefully. Red Hood watches, with mild disgust, as what he thought was a weird belt snakes its way up Ivy’s torso until she has two venus flytraps settle on her shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking gross,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that a lot,” she quips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he shoots at her, she’s ready. A branch grows fast enough to take the bullet for her and, before he realizes, she’s already inside his personal space. Hood dodges a punch in the throat but she keeps advancing. She knows better than letting him keep her at shooting range.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Welp, brute force it is then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood puts his gun away at the same time he dodges a kick to the face. He takes a swing. One of Ivy’s pet plants almost bites his fist and he barely has time to retreat before the pesky thing takes a piece out of his glove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. My sixth grade teacher told me those things are only lethal to flies,” he huffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ivy grins. “My children are special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She presses and attacks again, and this time Hood lets her. When her knee hits his stomach, he grabs her by the calf and uses her own momentum against her. She barely weighs anything when he throws her hard at the ground, her back hitting metal and her pained groan muffled by the loud clang. He cringes. So much for stealth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes to kick her before she recovers her wits, but apparently plants are more resistant than they seem. Hood feels his foot stuck to something and he curses when he looks down and sees thick vines holding him back. Shit, why didn’t he consider she had traps prepared around her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was kinda rude, Hood,” she grins, slowly sitting up. “But I’m not mad. I might even give you a little kiss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By then, his resistance is futile and he wishes he hadn’t put his guns away so fast, because the vines quickly wrap around his whole damn body and he can’t even shoot the b</span>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flying staff hits her on the side of the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“ACK!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ivy shrieks, falling to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing, Hood?” Red Robin hisses, pressing a batarang into Red Hood’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hell?” Ivy groans, now looking dizzy. “I thought you worked alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the intern. They call me Red Robin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he stands over her, looking all heroic and ready to fight. Ivy, however, stays where she is, gaping at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>regular</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robin,” she says. “I thought you died. We all did when we saw the smaller Robin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood snorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid deflates a bit.  “How the hell do you know who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Harley’s favorite Robin,” she says simply. “She got really grumpy when we heard there’s a new Robin again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Harley’s</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> Wait, you guys have favorite Robins?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course we do. Mine’s the girl one. She didn’t die, did she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s one of the most surreal conversations Red Hood ever witnessed and he’s leading an unusual second life. Fortunately, Ivy is distracted enough </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> or at least hurt enough </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> that she doesn’t intervene while he cuts himself free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, Dr. Isley?” Red Robin asks. “Are you aware that this place is Black Mask’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scowls at him. “Are you aware that Sionis is a misogynistic jerk and he’s doing a lot of damage to the environment in this stupid warehouse? I’m going to take this thing down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, fuck off, this place was mine before Sionis stepped in,” Hood protests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care if you’re his landlord.” She gives him a scathing look. “I want him out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is great then!” Red Robin smiles. “We also want him out. And we have eco friendly plans for the place after Black Mask is out of the equation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ivy gapes at Red Robin as though he started speaking a foreign language out of the blue. Red Hood is thankful for his helmet because he’s sure his expression isn’t much better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you suggesting we team up with Poison Ivy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Red Robin smiles as if he’s suggesting they should have burgers later. “The enemy of my enemy, right? Plus, I used to give her a free pass here and there because sometimes she’s right, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you’re Harls’ favorite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Robin shrugs again and stretches his hand to her. “Friends for the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Red Hood’s utter shock, she hesitates for less than a second before taking the kid’s hand and letting him pull her back to her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tonight, though,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anyone told Jason tonight he’d be working with no one other than the Poison Ivy to take down one of Black Mask’s drug labs, he’d call them insane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonetheless, he watches as Ivy throws caution to the wind </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> there’s no way the people inside didn’t hear their little scuffle </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> and uses one of their sentient plants to rip off an entrance on the metal roof. Right before jumping in, however, Red Robin squeezes his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” he whispers low enough that Ivy won’t hear them. “You were off. That wasn’t like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood shrugs his hand away. “We’ll talk about this later. Come on, we can’t let Ivy have all the fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can already hear the screaming inside, so Red has no option other than compliance. Time to crash the party, he was looking forward to this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s fun. Having Tim around is fun. Watching a bunch of crooks run terrified of a plant lady is fun. Rounding up his former employees </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> those traitors </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> and watching their comically horrified faces upon realizing he isn’t dead is fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much fun he completely misses the fact that there was someone else tailing Ivy. No one sees it when a young boy clad in bright colors rushes away from the place. Robin doesn’t know what to make out of what he witnessed tonight.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In case anyone is wondering what Tim's suit ended up looking like, <a href="https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/718896200551759893/754533181943840878/806527075_161008.jpg">click here</a>. (No, we don't talk about Jason's anatomy in this one. I'm not a very good drawer.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. the sun is down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jason and Tim establish a few things and some friends come back.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whew I'm alive! Sorry for the lack of updates. I got caught up with the Batfamily Big Bang and then the end of the semester and then holidays and my beta being busy... It's been a time.</p><p>Anyway, you may notice that now we have a chapter count, meaning I finally have this whole fic outlined! That and I have a few chapters written, so I should have a semiregular update schedule again. Who knows. Not me. Here, have this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Normalcy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t quite know what that concept entails. Once, it meant taking care of himself in a big house, making sure no one knew how much time he actually spent alone. Another time, it meant solving problems, training hard and answering questions, juggling a double life. Then, leading a team of people who trusted him and whom he failed time and time again. Finally, for a brief period of time, normalcy was running against time to solve an impossible puzzle and being a triple agent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now… now he isn’t sure anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a sunny Saturday morning when he wakes up and squints at the window. He wonders how beaten he must’ve been to forget to close the blinds. He scratches his belly and sniffles because less than a few hours ago Ivy freaking </span>
  <b>
    <em>bombed</em>
  </b>
  <span> a warehouse with allergenic pollen, which was really uncool of her. She didn’t even bother to give them a heads up. She did apologize and gave them an antidote before they parted ways, but… still. Tim wonders if it was less effective on him because… you know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifts his shirt enough to check on the scar. It’s healing well, in spite of everything. He doesn’t bother changing out of his sleeping clothes before going upstairs. Judging by the sun outside, it can’t be later than 11 am, which means… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, yes. Just like he expected: normalcy now means getting out of bed late in the weekend and being greeted by the strong scent of tea, because Jason is a heathen. When Tim stumbles his way to the kitchen, he finds the now familiar sight of Jason in his favorite green hoodie, a mug of tea in his hand, and his nose buried in a heavy looking novel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning,” Tim mumbles, already searching the cabinets for coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Food,” Jason orders in lieu of a greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim mouths the word food while pulling a face, but obediently grabs a piece of toast from the table. Bickering with Jason over mundane things is part of his routine now, but there are certain things the older boy is absolutely inflexible about. Part of normalcy now means knowing Jason will leave food for Tim and fighting him on whether he wants to eat is pointless. Tim bites into the toast as he prepares his coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ivy’s thing worked for you?” Jason asks without raising his gaze from his book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm-hum,” Tim nods. He’s still sniffling, but it’s true that he felt instantaneous relief when he swallowed the antidote last night. “You good too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Still, I can’t believe you just took it when she handed it to you,” Jason puts down his book and glares at Tim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim sits on the counter and shrugs. “If she wanted to kill us, she could’ve left us coughing our lungs out like the rest of the guys in the warehouse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have trust issues in the most fucked up way, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I happen to trust people who deserve trust,” Tim protests. “It’s not like I would take something from the Penguin. Ivy is pretty chill if you’re not littering or dumping waste in rivers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a crush on her or something?” Jason teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim rolls his eyes but focuses on chewing his toast rather than giving him an answer. Jason takes that as he wants, and snickers, like the idiot he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is normalcy now. Having breakfast in the old kitchen and talking about mundane crap - or at least mundane for them - and it feels… Odd. Tim can’t quite explain it. It isn’t like eating alone in Drake manor. It isn’t like making a mess in Titans Tower - the closest place he ever had to a home - because even there he felt like he had to set an example somehow, to keep everyone in check. It isn’t like awkwardly joining Alfred in the morning, still feeling like Bruce only thought he had to adopt him considering the circumstances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, this new normalcy doesn’t feel like any Tim had felt before. He doesn’t dislike it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m probably going to finish the adjustments to your computer system today,” Tim informs him. “I can’t believe we’re finally leaving the stone age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Jason tosses another piece of toast at him. “Also you can stop calling it mine. I hate it and I don’t know how to use it after everything you did to it. The computer is all yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim catches the toast and grins around his first bite. “Ooh, look at me, I’m Red Hood, I’m tough and scary, but technology is cursed, Alan Turing was a witch-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason stands. Tim is sure he’s about to either mess up his hair or put Tim in a headlock until he begs for forgiveness, even though he can see the hint of a smile twisting Jason’s lips upwards. Before a wrestling match starts, however, Jason freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you hear that?” he whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim listens. He can hear nothing other than distant sirens. Burnley isn’t one of the worst districts in Gotham, but they’re too close to Crime Alley. These streets don’t get a lot of traffic. Not this early in the day, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than explaining himself, Jason visibly shifts into Red Hood: his shoulders square up and he sets his jaw in a challenging scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone just parked on our driveway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s eyes widen. Could it be that they’ve been found out already? He made sure that the henchmen they got were too distracted by Ivy to notice them, but perhaps he had missed something. Part of him wants to go upstairs and grab his staff - even if that would be a stupid thing to do because he can’t exactly fight Dick into forgetting he lied to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim follows Jason to the entrance as he is, in his stupid oversized Superboy sweater and with toast crumbles all over his pants. He hadn’t even had his coffee. He peeks through the boards on the window and his stomach drops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t Dick,” he says. “It’s worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason reads the worry in Tim’s eyes and lets out a curse. Technically, all the doors to the house are sealed. The only entrance is a block away and it leads to the basement/Red Hood bunker. Jason, however, seems to forget that and grabs the door handle angrily. Tim cringes when he hears the sound of frail wood being ripped because it means Jason’s strength is out of control - which means he’s getting near pit rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the fuck did you find us?” he barks from the porch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara Gordon is still adjusting herself in her wheelchair. The icy glare she gives Jason shows that she isn’t impressed by his fury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Foreseeing disaster, Tim rushes out to put himself between Jason and Barbara. “It’s fine, let me talk to her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason glares at him. Although there’s a prominent vein pulsing on his brow and there’s definitely a hint of green in his eyes, he grits his teeth and stops. Tim sighs in relief before turning to Babs:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damian saw us, didn’t he?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell does the brat have to do with this?” Jason hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Logic,” Tim shrugs. “I’ve been taking care of our digital trail. If Babs knows about us, it means one of the heroes under her watch saw us. Cass is in Hong Kong. Steph and Dick would’ve confronted us right away. The only option left is Damian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason groans and his eyes have mostly returned to their usual shade of brown. Tim had somehow annoyed him into calming down, which is a skill he’s getting better at every day. Tim smiles a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Barbara says, her voice sharp. “You thought no one was going to notice two extra vigilantes running around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not forever, no,” Tim admits, trying to sound apologetic. "We wanted to be left on our own for as long as we could, though. We don’t need external interference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Barbara looks scandalized. “Absolutely wrong. Get me a freaking ramp or get down here, Timothy, I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason lets out an annoyed huff, to which Tim glares at him. He has no business getting mad at Barbara for threatening them when he promises to beat Tim up at least three times a day. Five, if it’s not a school day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we postpone the violence,” Tim suggests, his eyes not leaving Jason’s, “and just… have a chat? Inside? Jason just made tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An annoyed grunt is all the response Jason gives him before making his way back inside.  He doesn’t slam the door behind him, which is as good as a yes. Tim rolls his eyes before climbing down the steps to help Barbara up the porch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the way, how did you find our address?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim, please,” she huffs. “After I saw the footage from Damian’s bodycam, all I had to do was track your online footprint. You think I couldn’t notice the upgrades you’ve been making?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s fair, and Tim should’ve predicted that possibility. Granted, if no one had seen them, Barbara wouldn’t know there was something to track. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes her wheelchair to the living room where Jason is waiting for them. The older boy is sitting on their crappy couch with his knees spread out and his fingers steepled. It would’ve been an impressive crime lord pose to welcome someone if his green hoodie wasn’t sprinkled with toast crumbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Barbara is that easy to intimidate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what the hell happened?” She demands. “You left that night and went to meet the guy that almost killed you and two of your brothers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That stings. Barbara wasn’t there that night. Tim wonders if things would’ve been any different if she had been. Would she have listened to his theory or just called him crazy as Dick and Cassie had? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. All in all, he knew Barbara would always be there for Dick first. He never blamed her for that, because her partnership with Dick was far deeper than any impact Tim could’ve made in her life. He takes a seat by Jason’s side, farther from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damian also tried to kill me,” Tim reminds her. “And Dick fired me right after Jason offered me a job. Between the attempted murder and no job, and the same but with a gig...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That freaking idiot,” she mutters to herself. Then, raising her gaze to meet Tim’s: “He didn’t mean to fire you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim clenches his teeth. “It sure seemed like it when I woke up and saw Damian wearing my old costume,” he snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels Jason whipping his head towards him, and he curses himself. He had never revealed the gritty details of his dismissal for a reason. He reminds himself that Dick gave him Robin and it was his right to take it away, he has no reason to be this angry. That only serves to make him more bitter, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying Dick wasn’t stupid,” Barbara continues, her brow furrowing. “I already had some words with him about it. It doesn’t mean it was okay for you to just vanish for months, Tim. And then you’re back and you don’t talk to anyone. Not even Steph? Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, <em>fuck right off</em>,” Jason snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara goes stiff. Tim groans, because now he has to push his anger further away to be able to stop the two of them. Before he can say anything, Jason continues:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re talking as if I fucking kidnapped him. You know damn well how capable he is,” he barks. “The kid made a choice. I swear to fuck, everyone‘s a critic…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara opens her mouth but closes it again without saying anything. She presses her lips into a tight line. It isn’t often you see Oracle at a loss for words. For the first time, she looks at Jason without any animosity, her thoughts bare in her eyes. Unlike the boys, Barbara doesn’t play games. She doesn’t hide her emotions on purpose. The longing in her eyes is almost palpable, as though she’s seeing a dear relative she lost a long time ago, and she can’t reach them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you two thinking?” She asks. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What we do best,” Tim says simply. “Vigilante work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told Dick you retired,” Barbara points out. “Then you ghosted him. He keeps waiting for you to come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He likes to do that,” Jason says. Now his voice is barely a whisper. “He says he’ll be there if you need him. Who says we need him, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara hesitates. “I told… Never mind. Just… I’m glad you’re back, Tim. And I’m glad you’re not dead again, Jason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim smiles. Jason looks like he wants to glance around to make sure she’s not talking to someone else. When it becomes clear she isn’t, he somehow looks even more uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he starts. “What now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We fight for Tim’s custody, obviously,” Barbara smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The peaceful moment ends when Tim and Jason start protesting out loud over one another. Barbara giggles at the cacophony of half-words, something along the lines of<em> fuck off, not a child get your own damn kid responsible for myself</em>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m joking!” She shouts to be heard over their complaints. “Jesus, you boys get riled up so easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a boy,” Tim and Jason say at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They glare at each other. Barbara rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” she continues as though they didn’t interrupt her, “let me see your work, Tim. I’m going to give you guys a free upgrade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like hell you are,” Jason says. “How do we know you’re not spying on us for Dick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She arches an eyebrow. “Funny. I thought you two were fighting rogues, not Batman. Why would Dick want to spy on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because he’s a meddler and he doesn’t trust me,” Jason states as though it’s a fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be fair, you did try to kill Tim. And Damian. And Dick,” she retorts. Before Jason can say anything back, she raises a hand to ask for patience. “It doesn’t matter to me, though. Barbara Gordon is Dick Grayson’s best friend and partner. Oracle, however, is an ally to anyone trying to protect Gotham. I’ll help you two like I help Batman, the Birds of Prey, and even Batgirl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason frowns. “I thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Tim scratches his own nape, feeling suddenly guilty. “Actually… there might be a new Batgirl in town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t trying to hide it!” Tim says. “I swear it just slipped my mind with everything else I had to report!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason looks like he wants to grab a cushion and smother Tim to death. Before he can do as much, Barbara clears her throat loudly and says:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway… Support. I don’t talk about the vigilantes under my watch. Not to Batgirl. Not to Batman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason crosses his arms and leans back against the couch, his brow furrowed. Tim fights the urge to pat away the crumbs from his hoodie and waits patiently. Technically, this is Jason’s operation and he’s the one calling the shots. Tim has his own opinions, but in the end, a sidekick is supposed to follow orders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Jason turns to Tim. “Replacement?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He… does he want Tim’s opinion? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust Barbara,” Tim says without hesitation. “And having Oracle’s help is going to be a game-changer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason considers that for a moment. It’s clear that he isn’t happy about the conclusions he’s drawing but, in the end, he sighs in defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Jason says. “But if you tattle about what we’re doing, you’re gonna regret it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, gee, Jason, how kind of you to allow me to help you guys,” Barbara snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them start bickering, but Tim tunes them out for a moment. It isn’t like Bruce and Dick never asked him for his opinion. They did. A lot. He simply hadn’t expected Jason to do the same. And so openly too. Bruce liked to pretend Tim’s input was but a piece to a puzzle he was assembling by himself. It seems like Jason isn’t above taking Tim’s words at face value and explicitly showing that he was part of the decision making.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s… nice. Not quite like being a sidekick, but not like having a whole team depending on him alone. Tim decides he likes this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright, enough,” he says, standing up. “Come on, Babs, let me show you our office. Do you want some tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything but Earl Grey,” she says, allowing Tim to push her wheelchair towards the kitchen. “Don’t tell Alfred.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha… Does that make me the cook?” Jason complains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim gives him a pointed look. “Do you wanna help her with the computer instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason starts grumbling and cursing under his breath, but he still starts looking for something in the cupboards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike the Batcave, the secret entrance to the basement isn’t very fancy: just a couple of tiles that can be removed and a ladder. Tim helps Barbara out of her chair and she climbs down on her own. He has to admire her core strength. A little juggling with the folded chair later, he joins her and helps her to the seat again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she’s comfortable, rather than rolling straight to the computer, she wraps her arms around Tim a little tighter. Surprised, but not much, he hugs her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” she whispers. “I’m so, so glad you’re back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim squeezes her. He always loved Barbara’s hugs. He doesn’t say anything, though, because he doesn’t think he can. There’s a knot in his throat stopping any sound from coming out. He tightens the embrace a little more and hopes she knows what he means without him needing to say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara pulls back first, her expression somber. “Jason looks better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is,” Tim assures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still… I hope you know what you’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Tim says and there’s not a hint of doubt in his voice. “I… I guess I understand why he did what he did. And Jason is a hero too, Babs. I didn’t forget that, even if some of you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She presses her lips into a tight line and at first, Tim thinks it’s due to the implied accusation. Then something clicks, and he thinks it must’ve been because he referred to the Batfamily as ‘some of you’. For a while, he refused to think of himself as an outsider - he was Timothy Wayne after all - but, at some point, it seems like he started accepting he might not be one of them anymore. It still stings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, he also realizes he can live with that. Maybe it’s because of how easy it’d been to get used to Jason, to this new normalcy that feels truly normal after so little time. Tim may have left, but it isn’t Red Robin and them. It’s us and them. And, if everything goes according to his plans, they’re soon going to be at least on the same side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, it’s enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a time in Tim’s life when he didn’t mind making small talk. His mother drilled into his head that he was supposed to be pleasant and polite and that there’d be consequences if he embarrassed his father in front of his associates. Timothy could lose a whole week of his allowance for chewing with his mouth open during a business dinner. It was more about the inconvenience of being scolded than the punishment, really, but Tim learned pretty fast that being sociable and polite was easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a long time, though. Tim’s lost his touch. Or so it feels when he’s unable to shake off one of his annoying classmates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...and then you could totally join us this weekend for the tennis tournament,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim refrains from sighing. He thought all of his classmates had been warned not to mingle with that Drake kid. Even if he was Bruce Wayne’s newest charity case, he slept through most of the classes and talked back to the teachers. Unfortunately, Laney Gonzalez didn’t get the memo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I should,” Tim says tiredly. “I’m not great at any sports, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pff, like I’d believe you!” Laney chuckles and latches onto his arm, squeezing his biceps. “You think we can’t tell how muscular you are under this hideous uniform?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For fuck’s sake. “No, really,” he tries again, gently prying his arm away with an awkward chuckle. “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Go to school, Tim, Jason said. You need an education, Tim. Why doesn’t Jason get an education? Then he could hang back after class, even though there are better things to do because Laney freaking Gonzalez decided it was a good idea to make friends with the weird kid. Tim’s attempts to reach the gates seem to go unnoticed by the girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Tim,” she insists. “You never join us when we do class stuff. It’ll be fun. You don’t have to play or anything, just… hang out a bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What is a polite way to say I’d rather get into a fistfight with Killer Croc</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tim wonders? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about to make up a family emergency - is she going to notice that his phone didn’t buzz at all? - when he notices a small commotion near the exit. A group of students is eyeing the street curiously, and even the ones leaving are taking another glance at… something. Worried, he lets Laney’s speech about friendships in high school fly over his head, and he moves a bit faster. If something big happened while he was in history class, he’s going to freaking kill…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim stops dead on his tracks because the thing his fellow schoolmates keep glancing at is none other than Jason Todd himself in all of his glory. He’s leaning against the biggest motorcycle Tim had ever seen and wearing his favorite black leather jacket. Tim is already considering the fastest way to kill himself even before Jason’s face splits into a wicked grin and he opens his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Timbers! Fancy seeing you here!” He says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, shouts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kids in and out of the schoolyard follow Jason’s gaze and find Tim burying his face in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Laney is now keeping her distance for once. “You know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is already stomping towards Jason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” He hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still smiling, Jason hands him a yellow helmet. “Picking you up. Not happy to see me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if Dick sees you?” Tim protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, someone gasps. Tim turns around and curses when he realizes Laney followed him and thought it was okay to listen to a private conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I should’ve noticed it! For the record, I wasn’t hitting on you, if that’s why you kept refusing. I really just want to be friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason looks vaguely amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim frowns. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your boyfriend, I assume?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Tim hears himself shouting. “He’s my brother!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laney has dark skin, but Tim still notices the way her cheeks go a shade darker. “Oh gosh, is that right? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you had any brothers other than Dick and Damian!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim wants to die so bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Jason says, voice soft, dropping an arm around Tim’s shoulders, “I’m a bit of a family secret, so don’t go tweeting Vicki Vale about it, will you? We’ll know if you babble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch that. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to kill Jason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laney nods hurriedly and makes a hushed promise to keep the secret. She mumbles something about texting Tim later - Tim is sure that she doesn’t have his number - and half-jogs away from them, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Well, that takes care of that. Laney Gonzalez is probably never going to speak to him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns around and punches Jason’s arm. “What the fuck was that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a lead on that case from last night,” Jason hops on the bike. “Get on, loser, we’re going crime fighting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had a plan. You think Dick won’t notice you’re picking me up from school?” Tim complains. He’s already climbing the bike behind Jason, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim, what did I tell you about plans again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim sighs as he puts the helmet on. He rests his forehead against Jason’s back as though he doesn’t even have the strength to sit up straight anymore. Make a plan. The plan goes wrong. Throw it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides, Barbara knows. The Gremlin knows. It’s just a matter of time before we have Bitchard and Brat Girl on our asses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts the bike before Tim is ready, but Tim makes a point of looping his arms around his waist and swallowing a startled yelp when they go from zero to very fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until they’re several blocks away from Gotham Academy that Tim fully understands what he’d just done. He told a random classmate he had an extra brother. He told her Jason was his brother. He briefly considers letting go of Jason’s waist and letting himself fall into the asphalt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” he mutters to himself. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason eyes back briefly before turning his attention back to the street. Between the helmet and the speed, Tim didn’t catch even a glance of his expression, but he can picture it just fine. It’s been barely three weeks since they started living together, but this is normal for him now. He knows Jason’s mildly intrigued face just as well as his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” Jason asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For saying you’re my brother. I panicked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, he remembers the early days at Wayne manor. Bruce had sworn off adoptions and Tim could only stay after he promised that wouldn’t be an issue.  Hell, Tim tried to keep his word even after his dad died, and yet…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason mumbles something that gets lost over the wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said whatever, man!” Jason snaps. “I don’t think adoption expires after death. Technically we </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> brothers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t say anything. He should know better than to keep making the same mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But isn’t going after Jason a recurrent mistake in itself anyway?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s better like this, to be honest,” Jason says. “It’d be weird to be living with a random minor, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s basically an automatic response at this point: “You’re two years older than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m legally an adult. You’re not,” Jason reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re legally dead, actually,” Tim points.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason barks out a burst of laughter. “Look at you, Timmy, saying such mean things. Am I a bad influence on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, that tone is creepy. Drop it or I’ll make us crash. You know I have no regard for my own safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is definitely doing that talking without thinking thing again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, don’t I know it,” Jason groans. “Should’ve considered that before taking a fucking kamikaze as my partner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim perks up. “Hey…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not allowed to name yourself Kamikaze,” Jason cuts him off. “First, that would probably be racist, and second, because you’re not naming yourself after suicidal pilots. You chose Red Robin. No takesie backsies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, mom,” Tim pouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason speeds up and Tim takes that as his cue to pretend the purr of the engine is too loud for them to talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once in his life, Tim decides to really throw the plan away and see where this goes. This is just his new routine and Tim is nothing if not adaptable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The case should be simple enough: someone had destroyed an underground casino and killed the bosses responsible for keeping the place running. All of the workers had been spared. They would consider it an everyday case if the same thing hadn’t happened again somewhere near the Narrows. The two places didn’t have anything in common other than the business they ran - gambling, prostitution… the works.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim spent hours thinking of a personal motive and so far he had discarded personal vendetta and random coincidence. The methods didn’t match one of the rogues they knew and, although he didn’t say it out loud, Tim feared they had another Red Hood like vigilante in their hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Red Hood and Red Robin come out that night, they’re following one of Hood’s hunches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still think I could’ve done this alone,” Red mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>I still think I could’ve done this alone</em>,” Hood mocks in a high-pitched voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Robin glares at him and, even in the dirty dark alley, Hood doesn’t miss it. He sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you trust Oracle or not?” He sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do,” the boy mumbles. “Still, it would be more efficient…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To split up and have each of us cover a place. We’ve been over this. Oracle said she’d make sure the other place is closed for the night. If I’m right - and I usually am - our guy is gonna attack here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red rolls his eyes but decides not to argue any further. He’s pretty sure this is punishment for forcing Hood to accept Oracle’s help, by keeping him close and refusing to let him do part of the job alone. Alas. Let Hood be petty for now. He’ll learn soon enough that having Oracle backing you up is too good of an opportunity to pass up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, now that he thinks about it, Red Robin hasn’t done anything big alone since his debut. Patrolling and stopping random muggins is one thing, but the attack on Black Mask’s warehouses? The bust of the big drug traffic operation at the harbor? This odd murder case? In all of these high profile cases, Hood demanded that he and Red Robin attacked together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a mental note to think about the possible meaning of that later. Right now he has to focus on finding suspicious activity, which is surprisingly hard. Once they’re at the strategic point Red Robin picked and getting set for the stakeout, Hood seems to have similar thoughts, because he comments:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red sighs. “We’re not breaking into their office. We can’t risk spooking the murderer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older boy shrugs and they settle down to wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is a part of the job Red Robin was oddly fond of. There’s something about just sitting on a roof and waiting that is calming to him. He loved the adventure and solving mysteries and fighting bad guys and the thrill. That being said, there was something satisfying about taking your time and waiting to act. Just them too high up to be seen, the only witnesses being the cold night air and the certainty that they’re doing something good and saving innocents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim wondered if it was fucked up of him to love this so much. He’s been in contact with the ugliest parts of humanity since he was a little boy, after all. After Cissie retired, he thought about it a lot. Like Cissie, he didn’t have special powers. He was just another boy that got himself into a crazy situation. Why couldn’t he be just another civilian, unaware of Gotham’s nightlife? Enjoy school, as Jason wanted him to? Live a long life, maybe die of old age?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim likes to think that the fact that he loves this so much means that he was made for this life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think we’re facing tonight?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Hood starts talking and Red Robin listens to him. Unlike Tim, Jason is all about instinct and passion. Whereas Tim collects clues and puts together theories, Jason understands the reasoning behind them and comes up with hunches that Tim couldn’t dream of. Red Robin loves to hear his hypothesis because it’s almost like having a book read out loud to you, and an enjoyable one at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s almost satisfied, all things considered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood suddenly stops talking. As fast as lightning, he reaches into his holster and, before Red Robin even thinks of stopping him, Red Hood stands and points his gun at something - no, someone - right behind them. He pulls the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Robin opens his mouth in horror, but, rather than a lifeless body dropping to the ground he watches the invader dodge the bullet as though it’s nothing, almost gracefully. He reaches for his staff, but the invader is already running towards them again and Hood is getting about to take another shot. The invader’s cape flies behind them, dropping from their head and revealing... a familiar face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood’s finger is already on the trigger and Red realizes this time she’ll have no time to dodge. Without thinking twice, he jumps between Red Hood and the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>TIMOTHY</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Hood barks, pointing the gun upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know her!” Red Robin shouts at one of them. Maybe at both of them. “I know her! She’s my friend!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman’s stopped as well. She’s looking at them with her head tilted to the side. Without minding Hood behind him, Red Robin faces her and takes in her appearance. She’s still bald. Still rocking all the scars - maybe she even has new ones? - and she’s still dressed like a grunge-rock singer from the late 90’s. He’d recognize her anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pru?” He confirms. “Prudence Wood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulders relax when she hears his voice. She reaches for something in her pocket - Hood gets tense again behind him - but all she grabs is a piece of paper. It’s crumpled and a bit dirty, as though she’s been walking around with it in her pocket for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without hesitation, Red takes it from her unresisting fingers and reads the words someone - presumably Pru herself - had hurriedly scribbled:</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>I knew this would get your attention,</em> the paper says,<em> I’m here to warn you. The Head of the Demon is coming after you.</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, just like that, Tim’s frail normalcy is gone. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please, leave a comment if you read this far. Comments feed me even if I'm not that great at replying</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. you're looking and whispering you think I'm someone else</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jason has some thoughts about Tim being reckless</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm gonna stop pretending I have an update schedule. Here. Have this. A few lines are lifted from Red Robin</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nothing about this makes sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason hasn’t stopped pacing back and forth around the basement since he got off his bike. Tim’s assassin friend is sitting by the computer quietly typing an explanation, and Tim isn’t even wearing his mask anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did this happen? Tim was gone for </span>
  <em>
    <span>four fucking weeks.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that he isn’t bothering to hide his identity doesn’t phase Jason - there are way too many League members that know their identities, so it isn’t surprising that the bald girl knows Tim’s. What bothers him is that, when Jason announced he wasn’t revealing their HQ’s location, the assassin gladly allowed Tim to blindfold her and carry her there without any problem. Tim trusting criminals is one thing; the kid is spectacularly stupid, but a </span>
  <em>
    <span>League member</span>
  </em>
  <span> following a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bat</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the girl stops typing and turns her chair to face Tim. On the screen, Jason reads: </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An assassin was sent to do recon. I wasn’t allowed in on the mission because he doesn’t trust me anymore, so I don’t know much. All I can tell you is that sometime in the next few days the league will find your loved ones and kill all of them at the same time, so you won’t be able to save them all. They’re planning to go after the first love. The butler. The cop and his daughter. The whore thief. The son. The doctor. The replacement. The reporter. The steward. The girl apprentice. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim frowns at her:  “And where do they think you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to the computer and starts typing again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They don’t know. Or at least I fucking hope so. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope</span>
  </em>
  <span> so?” Jason snaps. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>brought</span>
  </em>
  <span> the League to us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If looks could kill, Jason would be heading to the afterlife for the second time. The assassin girl makes to get up, but she stills when Tim lays his hand on her shoulder. Just like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scene sends a shiver down his spine, because Jason remembers assassins going quiet like that. He’s seen it many times before - when Ra’s or Talia gave an order, or made a small sign, all of their soldiers would obey. If the Head of the Demon told them to stop, they stopped. No questions asked and no resistance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hood,” Tim says calmly, “you knew Ra’s wanted to find me. And he would’ve, whether Pru was here or not. And Pru, </span>
  <em>
    <span>be nice.</span>
  </em>
  <span> This is Hood’s place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of going eerily emotionless like assassins do when told to stand down, Pru rolls her eyes and shrugs off Tim’s hand. She crosses her arms tightly, pouting like a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling a bit wearily, Tim looks up at Jason and says: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew this was going to happen. I promised I would deal with it. I’ll deal with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why does Jason suddenly feel 13 again? Like he’s a kid in a bright outfit, being told by his father to stand down because ‘tonight’s mission is too dangerous for him’. Except now he’s the grown up, and he’s watching a teenager smile at him as though he’s saying Jason can rest, he’ll take care of the groceries this week. Instead of worrying about overripe fruit, he’s facing one of the most dangerous men in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upstairs,” Jason spits. “Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim rolls his eyes, but he squeezes Pru’s shoulder almost affectionately and promptly follows Jason out of the basement.  When the girl looks up at Tim, Jason notices she has a scar across her throat that can’t be more than a few weeks old. Judging by how big it is, it’s a miracle that the girl is still alive. Jason stows that thought away for later analysis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike Tim, Jason doesn’t blindly trust every random crook he meets. He doesn’t stop in the kitchen and heads to his room instead - the farthest room from the basement. Once they’re inside, he closes the door and turns to face Tim. The kid looks way too calm, all things considered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Replacement?” Jason starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim tilts his head to the side, frowning. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate if you want me to answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me you worked with Ra’s. He helped with a case. You repaid him by blowing up his shit,” Jason lists slowly. He makes sure to cite everything he can remember because he knows damn well Tim is going to make excuses about </span>
  <em>
    <span>not lying, just saying half-truths. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“You warned me that he was going to come after you. You didn’t say anything about an assassin girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Tim protests. “I’m as surprised as you are to see Pru here. I didn’t think she’d try to help me, or… I don’t know, come after me?” He absently touches the left side of his torso, his expression turning distant. “I guess we became friends, given our circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Assassins don’t have friends,” Jason argues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pru does,” Tim protests again. “Or… did. She and her partners were assigned to work with me and they… There were complications. I managed to save Pru and myself. Her partners weren’t so lucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason frowns. “That doesn’t explain what the fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was when you recognized her. What are you, a rookie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> the rookie?” Tim snaps back. “You mean when I stopped you from shooting my friend and you yelled my civilian name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s chin drops in a mix of horror and fury. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he remembers from that situation? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I mean that,” Jason barks out. “Except what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> remember is you jumping in front of a loaded gun. I could’ve shot you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason sees red. Before he can stop himself, he crosses the distance between them in two long strides. He shoves the kid against the wall and ignores the loud noise he makes. Tim struggles, but Jason keeps his hand firmly planted on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think this is funny?” He spits. “What do you think I am? If you’re fucking suicidal, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>do the fucking job, because getting me to do the dirty work isn’t gonna fly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than looking afraid, Tim glares back at him. When he speaks, his voice drips with loathing: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? It didn’t bother you before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason pulls his hand away from him as if he had burned himself. He supposes it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> hypocritical of him to ask so much of Tim. Just a few weeks ago, he’d judged Dick for depending on the boy, without even considering how much worse Jason was. Rather than just wanting the kid around, Jason had created </span>
  <em>
    <span>expectations.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d grown used to Tim’s stupid jokes and company after no more than a few weeks, so much so he’d forgotten how undeserving he was of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d forgotten he isn’t a team player at all. He still remembers when Dick took pity on him and tried to get him to be a Titan. Not even Dick could train him to be a team player. The former Wonder Girl, Dick’s best friend, tried. Hard. But even an Amazon could make him useful to others. It was like Jason was destined to look after only himself forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Jason retreats, Tim’s furious face crumbles and his shoulders slump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, no… Jason, I didn’t mean that,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you did,” Jason replies, barely recognizing his own low voice. “It makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if he’s trying to prove he isn’t afraid, Tim walks into Jason’s space. His expression is determined, and there’s steel behind his blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Tim states, purely and simply. “You tried to kill me twice. The first time because you thought I was your enemy, because you wanted to hurt Bruce. And the second… You were pushed to the edge, and I get why. I should never have shown you Bruce’s testament.” Jason flinches and Tim pretends he doesn’t notice, continuing: “He was never good with words, but that thing was too much even for him. And in the end… were you even trying? I kinda got out alive really easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Jason’s turn to scoff. “You’re so fucked up. How can you think you got off easy? I left you bleeding out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim pauses. “Maybe so,” he admits. “I wasn’t trying to die tonight, though. Pru was a person of interest and clearly dangerous, if you had shot her I couldn’t even blame you. Me, though? I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you wouldn’t shoot </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know, I used to think it was weird but kinda flattering that you trusted me until I find out you trust all the worst people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I?” Tim smirks. “Ivy did help us. Pru’s here to give me a warning that might save a lot of lives. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t shoot me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason stares at Tim, wondering why Bruce’s kids keep getting worse. Dick was nearly perfect, but that wasn’t enough and that was how Bruce ended up with Jason as a punishment. Then he was followed by Tim, the self-destruction machine. And then Talia’s unhinged spawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Jason is responsible for Tim, though, he’s starting to think he’s the one with the worst kid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you think this chick is for real,” Jason says, voice flat. “Even though it’d make a lot of sense for Ra’s to send her as a spy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would make sense. I don’t think that’s the case. It’s an instinct, if you will.” The little shit smiles, all pleased with himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to </span>
  <em>
    <span>we have to have a plan, Jason?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He sing songs in a high pitched voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to </span>
  <em>
    <span>we throw the plan away, Tim?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tim shoots back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Touché.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You said you know how to deal with Ra’s and, according to your girlfriend, Ra’s will be here soon. Now what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Tim hesitates. “I also said that when the time came to deal with the consequences, I’d handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then you said whether I’d be part of it or not was up to me,” Jason crosses his arms. “I don’t trust your irresponsible ass on your own. I’m in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim opens and closes his mouth without making any sound. After a moment, he smiles and nods. Without further ado, they head downstairs together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ra’s plan is so cliché that it’s laughable. So Tim messed up his plans. Everyone and their mother knows that if you want to take revenge on a hero, you go for innocent people they know. Jason saw this coming the moment Tim told him Ra’s would be coming for revenge. He knew damn well that revenge meant finding people Bruce cared about and taking them away. It was typical and obvious and exactly the reason why Jason was killed - not because he was Robin, but because of his connection to Batman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He always wondered if the Joker would’ve bothered if he knew Jason was so easily replaceable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alas. They go over the list Prudence gave them and were quickly able to figure out the victims: the first love should be Bruce’s former fiancée, a woman they haven’t seen in years. Just a power show to show that Ra’s could find anyone, no matter how long it’d been since Tim cut ties with them. The butler… Obvious enough. The cop would be Gordon and his daughter Barbara. The whore thief was Catwoman, as rude as that may be. The son was Talia’s spawn - showing that he didn’t mind killing his own grandson and getting rid of the kid that strayed too far. The doctor should be Leslie. The replacement probably meant the new Batman. The only reporter that had connections with the family was Vicki Vale. The steward meant Lucius Fox. And finally the girl apprentice was Stephanie Brown, the new Batgirl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vigilantes could take care of themselves, Jason was sure. Dick and Damian were more than capable of taking on a couple of assassins. The newbie was a bit worrisome, but Barbara was better than Bruce in every possible way. Jason was sure the new Batgirl wouldn’t be carrying the mantle if she wasn’t adequate. As for Barbara herself… Well, if Ra’s had made the mistake of underestimating her, he would get what was coming to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That left them with seven people that would most definitely need to be saved. There was no way Red Robin could protect all of them at the same time. Not on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a good thing Red Robin isn’t on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t sleep that night. Jason and Tim go over the victim list and what they can possibly do to keep them safe time and time again. Tim insists that they can’t tie up and blindfold Prudence, despite what Jason thinks, so she participates in the discussion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting all of those people to safety without compromising the Batfamily’s identities will be tricky, but leaving that small detail aside, something else is bugging Jason. He never asked Tim what case was so important that it was worth allying himself with the League of Assassins. He knew Tim enough to deduce that it wasn’t personal - that was Jason’s thing. Tim was the selfless one. If he was willing to sacrifice his morals, that meant it was something important, yes, but it was for someone else’s sake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is rising when Jason decides he can’t hold back anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he starts, “you gonna tell me what investigation was worth all of this hassle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is in the middle of typing something. His fingers slip. He glances at Jason through the corner of his eye and turns his gaze back to the computer screen. Weeks ago, Jason would’ve been fooled, but now he knows the boy enough that he recognizes the stiffness of his shoulders, the way he avoids looking directly at Jason when he answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oddly enough, he thinks of when he revealed to Batman that he was the Red Hood. Back then Jason had been angry, yes, bitter and resentful that Bruce didn’t avenge his death. His actions had been deliberate, and yet there was a part of him that had been afraid of Bruce’s reaction. Bruce, who was so against extreme violence and killing, would find out that Jason had been doing just that. And Jason had meant to show what his methods could accomplish where Bruce’s weren’t as effective, but he had also known Bruce was most likely to be disappointed. Jason had wanted to be explicitly rejected, thinking it’d be easier to let go of his expectations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What had Tim done that he was so afraid of revealing? Did he think it was something so awful that Jason would abandon him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think Bruce is alive,” Tim finally admits. “I was trying to find him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence stretches as Jason waits for more. When Tim remains quiet and strained, Jason finally asks:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim turns his chair to face him, his eyes wide. "Wait, that's it? No calling me crazy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you?" Jason quirks an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No?" Tim mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then why do you think Bruce is alive?" Jason asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well… I have circumstantial evidence," the boy says. “Based on what happens to everything else that is hit by Deathstroke’s rays...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So it's just a hunch,” Jason cuts him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t say anything, looking down to his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, did you find him?" Jason prompts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not yet. Just some clues."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aight."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim raises his gaze again, his eyebrows knitted in the way he does whenever he finds clues that don’t quite add up. Except, in this case, Jason is the unsolvable puzzle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're really not going to call me crazy?" He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason scoffs. "Do you want me to?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dick and Steph think I am," he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. So that’s where the fear comes from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, the stupidest thing, Jason wants to hug him. Tim might not be a child anymore, but he isn’t a man yet. Try as he might to sound and act mature, he’s just a teen. And in that moment, he looks so small and awkward. Jason wants to pull him close and tell him that he won’t lose his family again. That Jason isn’t the type to leave people behind because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows what it’s like to be left behind. That there’s nothing - </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> - Tim can do that will make Jason throw him into the curb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's absurd, really. Despite Tim’s unhealthy forgiving nature, Jason doesn’t have the right to be his brother. Hell, Jason might as well be one of the reasons why the kid is so fucked up in the first place. They’re working together because Tim has no one else to run to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s fine. It’s more forgiveness than Jason deserves anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t stop him from getting angry on the kid’s behalf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's hypocritical of them,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim frowns again. "How come?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Honestly, Bruce being alive is the least surprising thing I’ve heard all day,” Jason says. “Guys like Bruce don't die. They survive to see everyone around them die instead."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim doesn't say anything for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Besides, you say he's alive, that's good enough for me,” Jason adds in an even voice. When the kid looks up, surprised, he continues, "You're the brains of the operation. More often than not, you're right about this sort of crap. I know better than to doubt your hunches."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim looks away quickly. Jason still sees the corner of his mouth turning up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an odd thing, considering Jason isn’t big on optimism, but he has a feeling that they can solve this together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They absolutely cannot solve this together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your worst plan yet,” Red Hood mumbles. “And I’m including working with your almost-murderer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Robin gives him a smug look. “Don’t you mean working with my </span>
  <em>
    <span>legal</span>
  </em>
  <span> brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood looks up at the sky, trying to pretend he isn’t here right now. The fact that usually he would never do anything like this makes it easier. They’re sitting by Jason’s favorite gargoyle in the middle of the night, so Jason pretends this is a normal stakeout and they’re doing their usual work. He takes comfort in the dark sky and the fact that he can’t see any stars through the pollution. He’s home. As cursed as this place might be, he has nowhere else to go and that’s good, somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Tim calls. “I’m just joking, you know? I’m not… I’m not thinking anything stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason turns back to him, frowning under his helmet. They’re not at the best lit place of the world, far from it, but even then Jason can see that Tim’s cheeks are getting a shade darker under his mask. He’s embarrassed. Jason’s been so focused on dissociating to escape that he’s basically forgotten what they’d been talking about until seconds later. He rewinds the scene and realizes that Tim’s misinterpreted his silence as a reaction to whatever he said before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one can see Jason’s face under the helmet when his chin drops slightly. Because he suddenly remembers when he was a child, taken into a place that belonged in his dreams. Even back then Jason knew enough about the foster system to know how lucky he was. He knew most kids didn’t get a home. He remembered the inadequacy of the first days and thinking there had to be a catch. Thinking he needed to do extra chores to earn his stay, that he had to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to justify his existence at the manor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is that how Tim feels right now? It couldn’t be, right? Jason was supposed to be a last resort. Someone that Tim would go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> things didn’t work with Ra’s fucking Al Ghul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim…” Jason starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can ask - or say anything, really - Tim stands up quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re here!” he exclaims, the bashful tone gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s stomach churns. He’s right, of course. When he looks up again, he doesn’t see just the familiar dirty sky. He sees two figures in bright red and blue flying towards them. When he quickly averts his gaze, it’s only to see a small blur coming to them at an alarming speed. They’re not alone anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Impulse stops short of running over Red Robin. Jason’s never seen him up close before, and all he can think is that the boy is a lot smaller than Jason imagined, and his smile is a lot more blinding than it has any right to be. The boy looks like he’s about to superspeed into Red Robin for a hug when his eyes land on Red Hood. Impulse’s smile is replaced by a cartoonish expression of surprise, his chin quite literally dropping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seconds later, Superboy and Wonder Girl land, the latter carrying another girl clad in red in bridal style. Jason figures the girl in red must be Arrowette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Rob,” Superboy greets cheerfully. "How 's it- Uh. Is that…? Blink twice if you’re being held hostage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonder Girl elbows him in the ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tension could be cut with a knife, with all the former members of Young Justice glancing from Red Hood to Red Robin as though expecting to find an explanation on their mask-clad faces. Their demeanors range from utterly confused (Impulse and Arrowette) to carefully neutral (Wonder Girl) to downright antagonistic (Superboy.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m guessing you didn’t tell your friends that I’d be here,” Red Hood says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the sort of thing that’s easier to explain in person.” Red Robin shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lie,” Hood complains, rolling his eyes. “I know you wanted to see the shock on their faces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Robin chuckles, and that’s when all of his friends look absolutely baffled. Admittedly, it’s better than the awkward embarrassment from before, but Jason isn’t entirely at ease yet. And not because he’s facing some of the most powerful teenagers of the universe, but because he remembers why Tim’s friends hate him - and he doesn’t blame them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rob,” Wonder Girl starts, taking a step forward. The others fall behind her into what looks like a practiced formation. It’s clear that she’s their leader. “You said you needed our help. It looks like we’re not the only ones helping you. Is the apocalypse coming or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that she can ask that without a hint of irony is a testament to how batshit (heh) insane their lives are. Jason leans against one of the wings of the gargoyle and crosses his arms, wishing dearly that Tim wasn’t such a dramatic bitch. Jason could totally have stayed home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no one else,” Red Robin says, responding to a question Wonder Girl didn’t voice. “Only me and Hood. There’ll be a massive attack soon and civilians will be endangered. I’d have to be in 10 different places at the same time to fix it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Arrowette takes a step forward, smiling, “good thing there are seven of us, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simple like that. This isn’t something that Batman would ever do. Jason knows he practically had to be forced to join the Justice League. This isn’t something that Red Hood would ever do either. Jason had an it’s-every-man-for-himself mentality practically beaten into him from a young age. He couldn’t count on his father because he left. He couldn’t count on his stepmother because she was always too high to tell left from right. He couldn’t count on his adoptive father because Jason was so easy to replace. He couldn’t count on his biological mother. Jason wasn’t great at making friends either, despite Dick’s best efforts to get him to join the Titans. He simply wasn’t cut out for the teamwork thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he sits back and watches Tim effortlessly explain the impossible situation to his former teammates, Jason realizes a couple of things: First, this is what Robin is supposed to be. He finally understands all of Dick’s speeches. Robin is the light to Batman’s darkness, the missing link between a lonesome vigilante and his support system. Second, Tim is better than Jason in every possible way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s not only smarter and more capable, the kid was basically made for this. A bunch of teen heroes flew to the outskirts of Gotham after Tim called, without even questioning why first. They’re rallying behind Red Robin without a hint of mistrust or fear. Jason could never, ever do the same. He couldn’t do it as Robin. He sure as hell can’t as Red Hood. The Hood is a symbol of revenge. It’s meant to take evil’s own weapons and use them against it. He can never be a beacon of hope. Not in the way Tim can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can he still hold it against Bruce that he didn’t avenge him? It must have been a relief when Jason was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red Hood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason blinks. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and looks down. Wonder Girl is staring up at him with a curious gaze. He’s never been more grateful for the fact that his helmet hides his expression entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asks, forcing himself to come back to the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, while he was daydreaming, the kids started a fight. Impulse is hanging from Superboy’s back and giving him a noogie while Superboy tries to shake Red Robin into submission. Arrowette is about to shoot the three of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” He starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Donna told me a bit about you,” Wonder Girl tells him, unprompted. He turns back to her, his eyes wide. She smiles. “And so did Robin. I’m glad you’re on our side now. It’ll be a pleasure working with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t know what to say to that. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to say anything, because that’s when an arrow with a rubber tip hits Wonder Girl on the forehead. Everything goes silent for a second. She slowly turns to her friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The four of you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she announces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An all out brawl starts and, for once, Jason stands on the sidelines with his confusing thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The plan is simple enough. Each of Tim’s friends is going to take care of one of the targets: Superboy’s got Alfred, Impulse’s got Selina, Arrowette gets Vicki Vale, and Wonder Girl is going after Jim Gordon. Tim warned Barbara, and she said she would make sure that Batman, Robin and Lucius Fox were safe. Jason was tasked with protecting Leslie, and Tim was supposed to coordinate it all with Oracle after saving the new Batgirl. It should be a fairly easy task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Hood goes out under Barbara’s watchful orders and gets inside a charity gala that is supposed to raise funds for Leslie’s clinic. It’s simple enough to get in. The assassins sent aren’t much of a threat - Jason faced worse when he first woke up and Talia trained him - and soon enough Leslie Thompkins is safe. If he could do it without even shooting anyone, he can’t imagine Tim’s superpowered friends having much trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then why does Jason have a bad feeling about this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he leaves the building, he presses the comm button to let Tim know the mission is complete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red, this is Hood. The guys after the doctor are out,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, a familiar feminine voice replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great news,” Barbara says. “You’ll be happy to hear that I’ve kept tabs on all of the victims. All Young Justice members have already reported back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason frowns. “Where’s Red Robin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t he with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason loses his breath. What had the kid promised all these months ago? </span>
  <em>
    <span>When Ra’s come after me, I have a plan to deal with him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He should’ve known. He’d seen all the signs, they’d fucking joked about it and Jason never did anything because he didn’t know what to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is all his fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FUCK!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hood?!” Barbara gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason is already running. “He was supposed to be with</span>
  <em>
    <span> you</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need protection,” Barbara retorts, offended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knew that,” Jason says, hopping on his bike as they speak. “Where are the others? Dick, Damian, hell, even the newbie. I need you to send whoever’s closest to the location I’m sending to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jason, what’s happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so, so glad that he placed three different bugs on Tim’s suit. He really hopes at least one of them is still working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While we speak, Tim’s fighting Ra’s Al Ghul on his own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara’s horrified gasp gets drowned out by the sound of his engine. He barely pays attention to where his GPS is taking him. He doesn’t care about the fact that he’s basically blowing their covers and that Dick will find out about everything tonight, because it doesn’t matter who arrives there first so long as Tim isn’t alone. Jason should have never accepted to split their team. They had agreed they would watch out for each other, Jason had promised he would help with the League of Assassins and Ra’s himself. Tim hadn’t believed him, like none of them had any reason to believe him. However, Jason doesn’t think that’s the issue here. The issue is that it doesn’t matter that Tim has an army of loyal friends: like Jason, he only knows how to depend on himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost runs over a startled civilian while trying to reach Red Robin’s communicator, but he comes up with nothing, which means it’s either turned off or broken. Jason speeds up. He wishes he had asked Barbara who was closest to Tim. Has anyone been able to reach him yet? Is he battling Ra’s already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No boy should have to go against a monster like that, not on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Is this how Bruce felt when he had to race against the clock to save Jason?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the small computer announces that he’s reached his destination, Red Hood all but drops his bike without properly hitting the breaks. He’ll assess the damage later, because he’s just arrived at a very tall building and he has a lot of stairs to climb and floors to explore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First floor. A few broken doors. (Has this all been planned or was it a last minute idea?) Stairs. Red Hood trips. (There’s something to be said about a boy willing to work with Red Hood after he did so much damage. Did he get disappointed when he realized Hood wouldn’t do the job? Was he looking for an alternative the whole time?) More useless empty floors. He’s carrying his gun now. (And the worst part? This isn’t even about Tim. It’s about Batman. It had always been about Batman.) He barely registers how breathless he is. He doesn’t realize that it’s weird that he isn’t seeing the word tinted in green now. (And Tim didn’t mind making it about Bruce. In the end, he saved all the people Bruce loved without compromising his precious morals. Everyone… Except himself.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s mind is oddly clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, well, not clear in the classic sense. He definitely isn’t thinking straight. But not because there’s a toxic mist made of rage clouding his judgement. He isn’t angry. He’s scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when he hears a familiar voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...even if you kill me now, I’ve made sure he won’t be able to transfer anything to you. You’ve lost, Ra’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tim</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t think twice. He already has the gun pointed forward when he kicks his way in. There’s a gunshot. A pained, shocked groan. Glass breaking. Jason runs in just to see Tim being thrown out of the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dives after his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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